859 


C9 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 


THE    HEART   OF 
CHERRY   McBAIN 

Jl  Shovel 


BY 


DOUGLAS   DURKIN 


HARPER   &   BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  Of  AMERICA 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  ONE     -  -                   1 

CHAPTER  Two     -  -                                  16 

CHAPTER  THREE  ....                 37 

CHAPTER  FOUR  -                                           54 

CHAPTER  FIVE     -  .  -                                            67 

CHAPTER  Six      -  -                          88 

CHAPTER  SEVEN  -                                107 

CHAPTER  EIGHT  -                                 126 

CHAPTER  NINE  -                         -      142 

CHAPTER  TEN     -  -      159 

CHAPTER  ELEVEN  -                                            -       172 

CHAPTER  TWELVE  -                                          -      192 

CHAPTER  THIRTEEN  -                                            -      207 

CHAPTER  FOURTEEN  -                                       ^  -      227 

CHAPTER  FIFTEEN  -      247 

CHAPTER  SIXTEEN  -                                            -      264 

CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN  -                                 290 

CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN  ------      314 


81SS196 


THE  HEART  OF 
CHERRY    McBAIN 

CHAPTER  ONE 

ALTHOUGH  it  was  late  afternoon  it  was 
very  hot — hot  even  for  August.  The 
horse  ambled  sleepily  up  the  dusty  trail, 
his  head  low  and  his  eyes  not  more  than  half 
open.  The  rein  hung  loosely  over  his  neck  where 
it  had  been  tossed  by  the  rider  who  sat  dozing 
in  the  saddle,  his  two  hands  folded  across  the 
pommel  in  front  of  him.  The  only  alert  member 
of  the  group,  for  there  were  three  of  these  com- 
panions of  the  road,  was  the  dog,  a  mongrel  collie 
that  trotted  ahead  with  tongue  hanging,  or  waited 
panting  in  the  middle  of  the  trail  for  the  horse 
and  rider  to  come  up. 

Suddenly  the  horse  stumbled  clumsily  and  the 
rider  came  to  himself  with  a  start. 

"Steady  up,  you  fool !"  he  said,  and  then,  as  if 
he  regretted  the  tone  in  which  he  had  spoken,  he 
leaned  forward  slightly  and  passed  his  hand 
along  the  hot  neck  shining  with  sweat,  and 
brushed  away  the  big  brown  flies  that  clustered 
about  the  horse's  ears. 


2          THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

He  picked  up  the  rein  and  looked  about  him. 
A  few  yards  ahead  the  trail  dipped  slowly  away 
to  the  east  in  a  long  winding  curve  that  circled 
the  brow  of  a  little  hill.  Bringing  the  horse  to  a 
stand,  he  turned  and  glanced  behind  him.  To 
the  west  the  trail  fell  away  and  lost  itself  in  a 
wide  valley  out  of  which  he  had  ridden  during  the 
afternoon.  He  got  down  from  the  saddle,  and 
tossing  the  rein  over  the  horse's  head  to  the 
ground,  snapped  his  fingers  to  the  dog  and 
scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  little  hill  on  his  right 
to  where  a  pile  of  tumbled  tamaracs  lay  just  as 
they  had  fallen  during  a  fire  that  had  scorched 
the  hills  a  year  or  two  before.  In  a  minute  he 
had  clambered  upon  the  topmost  timber  and 
stood  hat  in  hand  looking  down  into  the  valley. 

As  he  stood  there  in  the  full  light  of  the  late 
afternoon  sun  anyone  catching  a  glimpse  of  him 
from  a  distance  would  have  been  impressed  most 
with  the  bigness  of  the  man.  But  with  all  his 
bigness  he  was  not  heavy-footed  nor  awkwardly 
poised.  The  ease  with  which  he  had  sprung  up 
the  side  of  the  hill,  and  had  leaped  from  one 
fallen  timber  to  another  until  he  had  reached  the 
spot  where  he  stood,  was  only  possible  where 
strong  muscles  are  well  co-ordinated  and  work 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN         3 

together  in  perfect  harmony.  And  yet  as  he  drew 
himself  up  to  his  full  height  there  was  but  little 
there  that  bespoke  agility.  He  looked  heavy  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  about  the  hips.  His  broad  shoul- 
ders appeared  too  broad,  partly  because  of  the 
slight  stoop  forward  that  seemed  to  lengthen  the 
line  that  marked  the  curve  from  shoulder  to 
shoulder  across  the  back.  His  face  was  the  face 
of  a  youth — but  of  a  youth  grown  serious.  There 
was  a  set  to  the  jaw  that  seemed  to  hint  at  a  past 
in  which  grim  determination  had  often  been  his 
sole  resource,  and  there  were  lines  about  the 
mouth  that  told  of  hard  living.  His  eyes  were  the 
eyes  of  a  man  who  has  wondered  much  about 
things — and  was  still  wondering. 

For  it  had  occurred  to  King  Howden — as  it 
has  probably  occurred  to  every  man  sometime  or 
other — that  the  game  was  not  worth  the  candle. 
The  significant  thing  about  King's  wondering, 
however,  was  the  fact  that  it  had  gone  on  for 
months  without  leading  to  any  other  conclusion. 
In  a  little  less  than  a  month  he  would  be  twenty- 
eight,  and  he  couldn't  help  feeling  that  life  should 
be  taking  shape.  Ten  years  ago,  when  he  had 
struck  out  into  the  world  alone,  a  serious-faced 
boy  whose  heart  swelled  at  the  prospect  of  living 
a  great  free  life  in  the  open  places  of  the  world,  he 


4         THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

had  thought  that  by  the  time  he  reached  twenty- 
eight  he  would  have  seen  some  of  his  dreams, 
at  least,  approaching  realization.  Now  as  he 
thought  it  over,  he  knew  that  he  had  failed,  and 
the  knowledge  had  a  strange  effect  upon  him. 

Down  there  where  the  valley  lay  filled  with  the 
blue  haze  of  late  summer,  a  haze  that  was 
touched  with  silver  from  the  sun — a  little  village 
stood  hidden  among  the  trees  that  lined  the 
banks  of  a  small  creek  that  chattered  noisily  over 
its  shingly  bed.  It  was  an  odd  kind  of  a  village, 
that.  To  begin  with  it  had  no  name.  It  was 
known  simply  as  The  Town,  having  sprung  into 
being  in  a  single  season  as  the  gathering  place  of 
the  scores  of  new  settlers  from  "the  outside,"  the 
vanguard  of  the  army  of  nation-builders, 
eager  to  secure  desirable  locations  before  the  rail- 
road should  enter  and  link  up  the  valley  with  the 
world  at  large.  For  months  the  settlers  had  gone 
in  over  a  hill  trail  of  a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
miles  or  more.  Gathering  their  equipment  to- 
gether, they  had  hitched  their  teams  of  sleepy- 
eyed  oxen  to  prairie  schooners  and  had  poked 
toilsomely  along  for  days  over  a  trail  that  only 
the  bravest  hearts  would  ever  have  followed  for 
its  entire  length.  But  the  reward  was  a  worthy 
one — a  generous  plot  of  virgin  soil  as  fertile  as 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN          5 

anything  the  prairies  of  Western  Canada  could 
show. 

And  so  the  town  had  sprung  into  being  at  a 
spot  chosen  by  the  men  who  had  blazed  the  trail. 
There  was  a  certain  native  beauty  about  the 
place,  in  its  pretty  stream  that  brought  the  cool, 
fresh  water  from  the  springs  in  the  hills,  and  in 
the  full-bosomed  elms  and  rustling  silver  poplars 
and  fragrant  balm-o'-gilead  that  dappled  with 
shadows  the  surface  of  the  creek,  and  made  a 
cool  retreat  for  weary  travellers  coming  in  hot 
and  dusty  from  the  long  trail.  Some  day — it 
could  not  be  long  now — the  steel  ribbons  of  one 
of  Canada's  great  transcontinental  railways 
would  bind  the  village  to  the  world  that  lay  be- 
yond the  hills  and  then  The  Town  would  be  no 
more.  Its  proud  successor  would  rise  up  some- 
where along  the  line,  and  the  old  place  would  be 
forgotten. 

In  the  meantime  the  place  had  a  distinctive  ex- 
istence of  its  own.  In  short — as  is  the  manner 
with  small  towns  the  world  over — it  had  a  way 
with  it.  King  Howden,  who  had  been  among  the 
first  to  come,  had  watched  it  grow  and  had  come 
to  know  it  very  well.  He  knew  that,  young 
though  the  village  was,  it  had  its  secrets,  and 
when  a  town  talks  behind  its  hand,  someone  must 


6          THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

needs  feel  uneasy.  King's  face  had  grown  grave 
on  many  occasions  during  his  few  months  of  life 
in  this  little  frontier  town.  The  villagers  were 
evidently  concerned  about  this  big,  slow-moving 
fellow  who  had  nothing  much  to  say  to  anyone, 
and  who,  after  delivering  his  weekly  bag  of  mail 
into  the  hands  of  old  man  Hurley,  the  kindly  old 
Government  Agent  in  the  place,  habitually  beat 
a  shy  retreat  to  the  little  cabin  he  had  built  on  a 
quarter  section  of  land  that  lay  west  of  the  town. 

And  King's  face  was  grave  now  as  he  shaded 
his  eyes  with  one  hand  in  an  effort  to  pierce  the 
haze  and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  white  tents  and  the 
roughly-built  huts  that  stood  down  there  among 
the  trees. 

He  did  not  know  exactly  where  he  should  look 
to  find  the  town,  for  it  was  his  first  trip  over  a 
new  trail  that  led  from  the  railway  construction 
camp  to  the  town.  Once  every  two  weeks  or  so 
during  the  summer  he  had  gone  out  by  the  long 
trail  and  returned  with  a  bag  of  mail  slung  be- 
hind him.  On  those  longer  trips  he  had  often 
perched  himself  upon  some  hill  overlooking  the 
valley  and  dreamed  away  an  hour  or  so  as  he 
thought  of  the  future — and  of  the  past. 

Now  he  was  on  a  new  trail.  The  "end-of-the- 
steel"  had  daily  crept  closer  to  the  valley  and  at 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN         7 

last  he  had  been  notified  that  future  deliveries  of 
mail  for  the  settlement  would  be  made  at  the 
railway  supply  camp  at  the  end  of  the  line. 

King  Howden  had  loitered  during  that  sum- 
mer afternoon,  and  the  loitering  was  not  all  on 
account  of  the  heat.  There  is  romance  in  a  new 
trail  that  has  been  freshly-blazed  and  newly- 
cleared,  and  King  Howden — though  he  never 
would  have  admitted  it  even  to  himself — liked  the 
romance  that  springs  to  meet  one  at  every  bend 
in  a  newly-made  roadway. 

On  a  bright  day  he  might  have  seen  the  white 
tents  and  log  cabins  of  The  Town  quite  easily. 
But  to-day  it  was  quite  hidden  behind  a  smoky 
blue-white  curtain  that  obscured  everything  be- 
yond a  radius  of  only  a  few  miles. 

'Too  thick  to-day,  Sal,"  he  said,  addressing  the 
dog  as  he  prepared  to  get  down. 

At  the  sound  of  her  name  the  dog  edged  up  a 
little  closer  along  the  log  and  rubbed  her  nose 
affectionately  against  his  knee.  King  smiled 
slowly  and  then,  instead  of  getting  down  to  the 
ground  immediately,  he  squatted  low  and  took 
the  dog's  ears  in  his  hands. 

"Sal,  you  old  cuss,"  he  said  slowly,  "look  me 
in  the  eye.  D'you  remember  the  day  I  took  you 
in?  You  common  old  purp,  I  saved  your  life 


8         THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

when  you  were  nothing  but  just  plain,  ornery 
pup.  If  I  hadn't  come  along  that  day  and  given 
promises  to  take  you  away,  gunnysack  and  all 
• — splash ! — you'd  been  a  dead  dog,  Sal." 

He  turned  the  dog's  head  sideways  as  he  spoke 
and  thrust  it  downwards  violently  in  imitation 
of  what  might  have  occurred  early  in  the  dog's 
history  and  so  have  terminated  her  career  sud- 
denly had  he  not  happened  along  at  the  critical 
moment.  The  dog  blinked  her  eyes  and  licked 
her  jaws  by  way  of  reply. 

"And  a  dead  dog  ain't  worth  speaking  about, 
Sal,"  he  continued.  "But  you're  a  sure  'nough 
live  dog  even  if  you  are  common  stuff  and  not 
much  account.  And  I  like  you,  Sal, — sure,  I  like 
you.  I  like  you  for  staying  round.  I  like  you 
because  you  don't  squeal.  If  you  were  a  squealer 
now — I'd  shoot  you  in  a  minute." 

He  bent  over  and  rubbed  his  head  against  the 
animal's  face.  Then  he  sprang  up. 

"Come  on,  you  lazy  old  cuss,  you,"  he  ex- 
claimed quickly.  "Don't  you  know  there's  a  long 
bit  o'  trail  ahead  yet?  Come  on!" 

In  a  moment  he  was  mounted  again  and  on  his 
way.  About  twenty  miles  of  trail  lay  ahead  of 
him  before  he  should  come  to  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney. Although  the  afternoon  was  rapidly  wear- 
ing away  and  the  westering  sun  already  turning 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN          9 

red  above  the  valley  there  was  no  special  cause 
for  hurry.  King  loved  the  trail  in  the  long 
northern  evenings  when  the  scent  of  spruce  and 
tamarac  came  down  from  the  hills  and  mingled 
with  the  delicate  perfume  of  the  prairie  roses  that 
came  up  from  the  valley.  He  loved  the  chang- 
ing colors  deepening  in  the  twilight.  He  loved 
to  hear  the  night  voices  awakening  one  after  an- 
other. Often  he  had  taken  the  trail  late  in  the 
evening  in  midsummer  to  escape  the  heat  of  the 
day  and  to  watch  the  arc  of  daylight  growing 
smaller  as  it  shifted  its  way  round  to  the  north 
in  the  early  night  until  it  hung  like  the  edge  of  a 
huge  grey  disc  just  showing  ab  ve  the  northern- 
most point  of  the  horizon.  He  had  often  watched 
the  disc  move  eastward  and  grow  again  with  the 
hours  until  it  spread  out  into  the  glorious  dawn 
of  another  day,  and  in  his  own  way  he  loved  it  all 
— for  it  made  him  feel  that  he  was  a  part  of  the 
great  scheme  of  things.  For  a  while  then  he  felt 
sure  of  himself — and  that  was  a  good  feeling  for 
King  Howden. 

Only  a  few  miles  more  and  he  would  be  out 
on  the  right-of-way  where  stood  old  Keith  Mc- 
Bain's  construction  camp.  It  made  a  convenient 
place  for  a  pause  half-way  in  the  trip,  and  the 
camp  incidentally  boasted  the  best  cook  on  the 


10        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

line — a  fact  that  might  have  had  some  bearing 
upon  King's  decision  to  make  camp  about  supper 
time. 

A  short  three  miles  farther  on,  the  trail  took  a 
little  dip  to  the  left  down  the  slope  of  a  wooded 
ridge  and  emerged  upon  the  open  right-of-way. 
It  was  within  half  an  hour  of  general  quitting 
time  and  the  teamsters  had  already  begun  to 
leave  the  grade,  their  sweating  horses  hurrying 
quickly  away  in  the  dust,  with  trace-chains  clink- 
ing and  harness  rattling.  The  rest  of  the  gang 
were  still  at  work  clearing  the  ground  of  stumps 
and  logs,  and  roughly  levelling  the  piles  of  earth 
that  had  been  thrown  up  by  the  "slushers"  dur- 
ing the  afternoon. 

King  had  stood  upon  right-of-ways  before,  but 
the  prospect  fascinated  him  as  much  to-day  as  it 
had  done  the  first  day  he  had  ever  looked  along 
the  narrowing  perspective  of  an  open  avenue  can- 
yoned  between  two  rows  of  trees,  and  in  the 
centre  a  long  straight  line  of  grey-brown  earth 
heaped  up  into  a  grade.  He  slipped  down  from 
the  saddle  and  walked  leisurely  along  the  trail 
that  skirted  the  side  of  the  right-of-way,  his  eyes 
upon  the  men  who  went  about  their  work  quietly 
and  with  no  more  enthusiasm  than  one  might 
expect  from  human  beings  whose  thanks  to  a 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        11 

benevolent  Providence  found  daily  expression  in 
the  formula,  "another  day,  another  dollar." 

King  found  a  bit  of  innocent  diversion  in  the 
efforts  of  four  grunting  and  expostulating  work- 
men who  had  lifted  a  log  from  the  ground  and 
were  stumbling  clumsily  with  it  towards  the 
right-of-way.  The  log  was  not  so  large  that  four 
men  could  not  have  handled  it  easily.  King 
smiled  as  he  watched  them,  and  thought  to  him- 
self that  two  men  could  have  picked  it  up  and 
taken  it  away  without  great  effort.  Suddenly  a 
veritable  torrent  of  profanity  broke  upon  his 
ears,  and  the  foreman  who  had  been  standing 
near  rushed  up,  threw  his  arms  about  the  log 
and  scattering  all  four  of  them,  carried  it  off 
alone  and  threw  it  upon  a  pile  of  stumps  and 
roots  that  stood  a  few  feet  back  from  the  trail. 
King  found  himself  all  at  once  wondering  what 
he  himself  could  have  done  with  a  log  of  the  same 
size. 

He  came  to  himself  suddenly  again  at  the 
sound  of  the  foreman's  voice  and  looked  round 
just  in  time  to  see  Sal  leap  to  one  side  and  run 
towards  him  to  escape  a  stick  that  came  hurtling 
along  the  ground  near  the  dog's  feet.  King 
stepped  out  quickly  to  protect  the  dog.  As  he 
did  so  he  saw  the  foreman  standing  a  few  yards 


12        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

away,  his  face  twisted  into  a  grin.  For  a  moment 
the  two  men  eyed  each  other.  Then  King  spoke. 

"Quit  that,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  rising  passion. 

The  foreman's  only  reply  was  a  few  muttered 
words  of  profanity  that  King  did  not  hear,  or 
hearing  did  not  consider  worthy  of  any  account. 
His  concern  was  for  the  mongrel  collie  that  had 
narrowly  escaped  injury,  and  was  now  fawning 
and  whining  about  his  legs. 

"Don't  do  that,"  he  said.     "She's  my  dog." 

The  foreman  grinned.  "Your  dog — what  the 
devil  do  I  care  whose  dog  it  is !" 

King  spoke  without  moving  and  his  voice  was 
now  clear  and  steady.  "You  don't  need  to  care 
— you  didn't  hit  her." 

"Well,  I  tried,  didn't  I?" 

**I  say  you  didn't  hit  her,"  King  replied 
slowly,  "and  I — I  don't  want  you  to." 

For  a  moment  the  two  men  stood  looking  at 
each  other  silently  without  moving.  King's  face 
was  grave  and  one  corner  of  his  mouth  twitched 
a  little  in  anger.  The  grin  never  left  the  face  of 
the  foreman;  it  was  still  there  when  he  finally 
turned  away  and  strode  towards  the  men  who 
were  at  work  on  the  grade  a  short  distance  off. 

King  watched  him  closely  for  a  while  and  then 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        13 

stepped  back  and  passed  his  hand  soothingly 
along  the  horse's  shoulder.  Getting  down  on  one 
knee  he  drew  the  dog  towards  him  and  patted  her 
head  gently. 

"Sal,  you  old  mongrel  pup,  you,"  he  said  as  if 
he  were  on  the  point  of  bringing  gentle  chastise- 
ment upon  her — but  he  said  no  more.  Getting 
up,  he  threw  a  backward  glance  in  the  direction 
of  the  men  working  on  the  grade  and  went  off 
slowly  down  the  trail  towards  the  camp. 

When  he  had  gone  some  distance  he  stopped 
suddenly  and  looked  about  him  as  if  he  feared 
someone  were  watching  him.  On  the  ground 
before  him  was  a  large,  solid  tamarac  log.  He 
placed  his  foot  upon  it  and  measured  it  with  his 
eyes  from  end  to  end.  He  kicked  the  log  two  or 
three  times  to  assure  himself  that  it  was  sound. 
Then  he  glanced  back  again  to  where  the  men 
were  working  in  the  distance.  When  he  was  sure 
that  no  one  was  watching  him  he  dropped  the 
bridle  rein  to  the  ground  and  bent  over  the  log. 
Working  his  great  hands  under  it  he  closed  his 
arms  slowly  about  the  middle  and  set  himself  to 
lift  Gradually  he  straightened  himself  till  he 
stood  erect,  his  arms  clasped  about  the  log.  Then 
swinging  it  round  till  he  faced  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection he  carried  it  steadily  to  the  other  side  of 


14       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

the  trail  and  dropped  it  in  the  underbrush. 
Measuring  it  again  with  his  eyes,  he  kicked  it — 
it  was  sound  to  the  heart. 

"I  can  do  it,"  he  said  aloud  to  himself,  "and  I 
believe — if  anything — it's  a  bigger  piece." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  became  aware  of  someone 
watching  him.  Something  suspiciously  like  a 
chuckle  came  from  the  bushes  near  by  and  he 
raised  his  eyes  quickly.  Not  more  than  a  dozen 
paces  away,  half-hidden  in  the  shrubbery,  stood 
a  girl  knee-deep  in  the  matted  vines,  a  sheaf  of 
wild  roses  in  her  arms. 

For  a  moment  King  was  unable  to  stir.  It  was 
as  if  an  apparition  had  suddenly  broken  in  on  his 
imagination — a  riotous  apparition  of  dark  hair, 
laughing  eyes  and  delicate  pink  roses. 

When  he  came  to  himself  he  moved  back  awk- 
wardly and  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  the  bridle- 
rein  when  he  was  arrested  by  a  burst  of  laughter 
that  caused  him  to  turn  again  and  stand  looking 
at  her,  the  bridle-rein  hanging  loosely  in  his 
hand.  His  look  was  a  question — and  her  only 
answer  was  a  laugh  as  she  came  out  from  the 
cover  of  the  bushes  and  stood  upon  the  log  that 
King  had  just  moved  from  the  other  side  of  the 
trail.  From  this  position  of  advantage  she  looked 
at  him,  her  eyes  almost  on  a  level  with  his. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN       15 

"I  saw  it  all,"  she  declared,  and  King  thought 
the  expression  on  her  face  was  less  mischievous 
now. 

"What?"  he  asked. 

"You  take  a  dare  from  a  man  and  walk  away 
to  have  it  out  by  yourself  with  a  log." 

There  was  a  flash  of  fire  in  her  eyes  as  she 
spoke  and  King  became  the  victim  of  mingled 
anger  and  self-reproach.  While  he  hesitated  to 
make  a  reply  the  girl  hopped  down  from  the  log 
and,  brushing  past  him,  walked  quickly  down  the 
trail  towards  the  camp. 

When  she  had  gone  almost  out  of  easy  hear- 
ing distance  he  straightened  himself  suddenly. 

"I  didn't !"  he  called  after  her,  but  she  paid  not 
the  slightest  heed. 

A  minute  later  he  started  off  for  the  camp 
afoot,  his  horse  following  behind  him.  And  as  he 
went  he  thought  over  the  words  in  which  he 
found  nothing  but  reproach,  and  worst  of  all — 
contempt. 

"  'You  took  a  dare,' "  he  repeated,  and  then  to 
himself  he  said  over  and  over  again,  "I  didn't — 
I  didn't!" 


CHAPTER  TWO 

A  LITTLE  more  than  an  hour  later  King 
left  the  cook-camp  and  went  to  the  corral 
where  his  horse,  well  rested  from  the  first 
half  of  the  journey,  stood  ready  and  waiting  for 
him. 

He  was  in  the  act  of  throwing  the  saddle  onto 
the  horse  when  he  stopped  suddenly  and  listened. 
From  round  the  corner  of  the  corral  came  the 
sound  of  voices  of  men  in  dispute. 

"Any  man  who  tries  to  call  Bill  McCartney 
had  better  be  sure  he  holds  a  good  hand," 
the  most  emphatic  of  the  speakers  declared. 

In  affairs  of  this  kind  King  Howden  had  a 
kind  of  instinct  that  he  invariably  trusted.  Some- 
thing told  him  that  the  man  whose  name  he  heard 
was  the  big  foreman  whom  he  had  seen  on  the 
grade  before  supper.  He  felt,  too,  that  he  him- 
self was  under  discussion,  and  laying  the  saddle 
down  he  walked  quietly  to  the  corner  and  listened 
for  a  moment.  He  had  no  liking  for  eavesdrop- 
ping, and  yet — he  had  not  recovered  from  the 
sting  of  the  words  that  had  fallen  from  the  lips 

16 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        17 

of  the  girl ;  the  look  of  reproach  in  her  dark  eyes 
was  still  vividly  before  him.  But  those  words 
were  the  words  of  a  girl.  When  men  speak  dis- 
paragingly of  another,  the  case  is  a  different 
one. 

He  stepped  round  the  corner  of  the  corral  and 
stood  before  a  half  dozen  of  McBain's  men 
lounging  upon  bales  of  pressed  hay,  smoking 
after-supper  pipes. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  silence  so  tense  that 
even  King,  who  might  have  been  prepared  for  it, 
began  to  feel  uncomfortable. 

"No  use  bluffin',"  said  one  of  the  group  at  last. 
"We  were  talkin'  about  you  an'  Bill  McCartney. 
Looked  for  a  while  like  someone  was  in  for  a 
lickin'  this  afternoon." 

King  looked  at  the  speaker.  He  was  an  old 
man,  too  old,  really,  to  be  combatting  the  rigors 
of  camp  life.  His  voice  was  thin,  even  high- 
pitched,  but  King  could  not  help  observing  the 
very  apparent  effort  the  old  man  was  making  to 
be  pleasant.  And  yet,  the  line  where  King's  lips 
met  drew  straight  and  tightened  perceptibly. 

"My  boy,"  the  old  man  went  on,  very  pleas- 
antly but  not  patronizingly,  "don't  bother  Bill 
McCartney.  We  don't  love  him  none — but  we 
talk  when  he  ain't  'round."  He  was  speaking 


18        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

very  directly  now  and  had  begun  to  fill  his  pipe 
deliberately.  "The  boys  can  tell  you  about  him. 
There's  a  Hardy  youngster  here  in  camp  by  the 
name  of  Lush  Currie — " 

The  old  man  was  interrupted  suddenly  by  the 
laughter  of  the  other  members  of  the  group.  At 
first  he  seemed  ready  to  join  in  the  chorus  he  had 
unwittingly  provoked,  but  he  glanced  once  at 
King  and  checked  himself  immediately.  Then 
he  turned  to  the  men  with  a  look  in  which  there 
was  a  mingling  of  anger  and  appeal. 

"Well,"  he  said  abruptly,  "what  are  you 
laughin'  at?" 

If  the  remark  relieved  the  old  man's  embar- 
rassment it  certainly  did  not  check  the  hilarity  of 
the  men.  But  when  King  stepped  forward  and 
looked  at  them  with  a  slow  smile  playing  about 
the  corners  of  his  lips  and  drawing  the  lines  of 
his  mouth  even  more  tensely,  the  laughing  ceased 
at  once  and  the  men  waited  in  silence  for  him  to 
speak. 

"Don't  you  go  to  making  plans  for  me  and  this 
man,  McCartney,"  King  said,  and  his  steady 
gaze  seemed  to  take  them  all  in  at  once  as  he 
spoke.  "You  better  get  straight  on  this — Mc- 
Cartney hasn't  done  me  a  speck  o'  harm — not 
yet  he  hasn't." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        19 

"Pray  goddlemighty  hard  he  don't!"  replied 
one  of  the  men,  but  the  remark  elicited  scarcely 
more  than  a  smile  from  the  others — and  not  even 
so  much  as  a  smile  from  the  old  man. 

"And  I'm  not  going  to  lose  time  praying  about 
it,  either,"  King  observed,  his  eyes  upon  the 
speaker. 

He  turned  and  went  back  to  his  horse,  where 
he  proceeded  in  a  leisurely  way  to  adjust  the 
saddle.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was  ready  to  leave, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  getting  up  when  he  heard 
a  step  approaching,  and  pausing  to  look  behind 
him  observed  the  old  man  coming  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  corral.  He  was  alone,  and  as  he  came 
forward  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and 
tapped  the  bowl  gently  against  the  palm  of  his 
hand  to  empty  it. 

"My  name's  Gabe  Smith,"  he  said  in  his  high, 
thin  voice,  "an'  yours  ?" 

King  gave  him  his  name. 

The  old  man  extended  his  hand  cordially,  and 
King,  recognizing  at  once  that  the  overtures  were 
meant  to  be  friendly,  could  not  help  feeling 
warmly  towards  him.  They  exchanged  a  few 
words  that  served  to  confirm  King's  opinion  of 
the  sincerity  of  old  Gabe  Smith,  and  then,  getting 


20        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

into  his  saddle,  King  turned  his   horse's   head 
down  the  trail. 

Just  once  before  he  urged  his  horse  into  a  gal- 
lop he  turned  and  looked  behind  him. 

"Sal,  you !"  he  called  to  his  dog. 

At  the  summons  the  dog  leaped  from  the  side 
of  the  trail  and  the  three  went  off  together  in  the 
gathering  dusk. 

It  was,  perhaps,  only  natural  that  King's  mind 
should  dwell  more  or  less  upon  the  disturbing  ele- 
ment that,  during  the  past  few  hours,  had  come 
unbidden  into  his  life.  Early  that  afternoon  his 
mind  had  been  occupied  mainly  with  memories' 
of  a  past  that  had  been  woven  out  of  failure  and 
disappointment  and  shapeless  motive.  Now, 
with  an  open  trail  before  him,  his  mind  was  filled 
with  new  hopes  and  strange  misgivings. 

His  misgivings  were  not  without  good  reason, 
had  he  known  the  full  truth.  Bill  McCartney, 
the  big  foreman  with  Keith  McBain's  outfit,  com- 
manded the  respect  which  hard-fisted  men  in- 
variably pay  to  those  whose  reputation  for  heavy 
hitting  goes  before  them  wherever  they  move. 
When  he  came  to  Keith  McBain's  camp  his  repu^ 
tation  had  preceded  him  by  at  least  a  week.  By 
some  mysterious  way,  for  which  there  is  no  ao. 
counting,  the  men  had  been  prepared  for  days 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        21 

against  the  coming  of  one  who  could  hit  harder 
than  any  man  west  of  North  Bay.  It  was  not  on 
record  that  any  of  the  citizens  of  the  town  that 
set  the  eastern  limit  to  the  extent  of  McCartney's 
reputation  could  actually  hit  harder,  or  even  as 
hard,  as  the  formidable  foreman.  It  probably 
never  occurred  to  anyone  to  carry  his  investiga- 
tions so  far.  It  was  enough  that  North  Bay 
should  be  generally  accepted  as  the  point  that 
marked  the  division  between  two  worlds,  in  one 
of  which  the  name  of  Bill  McCartney  had  never 
been  known,  in  the  other  of  which  his  name  was 
mentioned  with  the  deference  due  to  men  of  his 
class. 

There  was  probably  no  fear  mingled  with  that 
feeling  of  deference.  The  men  simply  knew  what 
Bill  McCartney's  reputation  was,  and  after  the 
first  few  searching  glances  at  the  new  foreman 
they  were  prepared  to  believe  what  they  had  been 
told,  and,  perhaps,  to  add  something  to  it  by  way 
of  coloring  it  up  a  little. 

Those  who  were  disposed  to  think  conserva- 
tively of  McCartney's  abilities  when  they  first 
saw  him  were  given  an  opportunity  to  correct 
their  estimates  somewhere  about  the  third  day 
after  his  arrival  in  camp,  although  only  a  few 
were  fortunate  enough  to  be  on  hand  when  he 


22        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

first  proved  his  ability  to  live  up  to  his  reputation. 
Before  McCartney's  arrival  the  name  of  "Lush" 
Currie,  a  thick-set,  bony  fellow  who  had  carried 
off  the  honors  in  many  a  fight  to  the  finish,  had 
always  been  mentioned  with  something  of  the 
same  deference  that  was  now  accorded  the  new 
foreman.  In  fact,  Currie  was  one  of  the  few 
doubters  who  were  unwise  enough  to  have  ex- 
pressed openly  their  own  personal  contempt  for 
reputations  that  were  unproved.  He  spoke  once, 
however,  when  McCartney  was  within  hearing. 
The  small  group  who  had  witnessed  the  affair 
afterwards  said  that  "Lush"  had  spoken  very  un- 
wisely. No  one  at  the  time  knew  exactly  what 
had  occurred — though  they  worked  out  all  the 
details  with  great  care  later.  All  agreed  that  only 
one  blow  had  been  struck,  and  that  blow  was  Mc- 
Cartney's. Before  Currie  had  a  chance  to  defend 
himself  he  was  lying  in  a  heap  on  the  ground. 
Though  McCartney  waited  for  him  to  get  up, 
"Lush"  could  not  find  his  feet  without  the  help 
of  a  couple  of  men  who  were  standing  near,  who 
lifted  him  and  helped  him  off  to  his  bunk,  where 
for  a  few  days  he  nursed  a  broken  jaw. 

The  incident  had  caused  no  end  of  discussion. 
Some  felt  that  Currie  had  not  been  given  a  square 
deal — there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  fair  fight — 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        23 

Currie  should  have  been  given  some  warning. 
The  affair  proved  nothing  so  far  as  Bill  McCart- 
ney's fighting  ability  was  concerned;  it  should 
be  fought  over  again,  and  undoubtedly  would. 
Others  protested  that  Currie  had  no  right  to  talk 
about  McCartney  unless  he  wanted  to  fight — that 
he  should  have  been  prepared  for  what  had  hap- 
pened. He  had  been  warned — he  got  only  what 
was  coming  to  him,  and  would  probably  know 
better  than  to  seek  further  trouble. 

But  "Lush"  Currie  gave  neither  promise  nor 
explanation — a  fact  that,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
great  majority  of  Keith  McBain's  men,  proved 
his  wisdom,  if  it  did  not  acj^anything  to  his  repu- 
tation for  courage. 

But  these  were  things  that  King  did  not  know. 
He  only  wondered  about  the  man  McCartney,  in 
whom  he  found — though  he  could  not  have  told 
why — the  embodiment  of  a  new  and  sinister  an- 
tagonism. He  could  not  help  feeling  that  some- 
how powers  over  which  he  had  no  control  were 
dealing  the  cards,  and  he  had  to  play  the  game. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  another — 

His  mind  went  back  to  the  laughing  eyes  of 
the  girl  that  had  spoken  to  him  from  the  cover 
of  the  bushes  beside  the  trail. 

Overhead     the     night-hawks    whistled    and 


24       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

swooped  down  with  whirring  wings  above  the 
tree-tops.  The  damp  scent  of  low  mist-filled  hol- 
lows came  to  him  on  the  motionless  air,  mingled 
with  the  cool  fresh  fragrance  of  the  spruce.  Little 
waves  of  warm  air  rose  from  the  trail  that  had 
lain  all  day  under  a  burning  sky.  The  occasional 
call  of  a  distant  coyote  whined  across  the  plains, 
and  returned  in  numberless  echoes  till  it  broke 
and  died  into  silence. 

Suddenly  Sal  stopped  in  the  trail  and  stood 
looking  back,  her  head  up,  her  ears  pricked  for- 
ward, her  tail  brushing  from  side  to  side.  King 
reined  his  horse  in  to  a  walk  and  listened.  He 
could  hear  the  rhythmic  beat  of  hoofs  on  the 
trail  some  distance  behind  him.  From  the  sound 
they  made  he  knew  the  rider  was  coming  fast. 
Curiosity  overcame  him,  and  he  turned  about 
and  waited  at  a  point  in  the  trail  from  which  he 
could  look  from  cover  across  a  deep  hollow  to 
where  the  trail  was  visible  winding  along  near  the 
base  of  the  hill.  He  had  been  waiting  only  a  few 
moments  when  the  horse  and  rider  came  into 
view.  The  ligEt  Had  almost  gone  by  now,  but 
there  was  still  enough  left  of  the  long  northern 
summer  twilight  to  make  it  possible  for  him  to 
follow  the  dimly-outlined  figures  of  horse  and 
rider  until  they  suddenly  vanished  whv  2  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        25 

trail  ran  hidden  through  a  stretch  of  evergreens. 
When  they  emerged  they  were  only  a  few  yards 
away  and  in  full  sight.  The  rider  was  none  other 
than  the  girl  whose  image  he  had  kept  before  him 
in  the  failing  twilight. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  turn  his  horse's  head 
across  the  trail — he  could  not  believe  that  the  girl 
he  had  seen  that  afternoon  was  actually  in  con- 
trol of  the  animal  she  rode.  But  not  more  than 
a  dozen  paces  away  the  horse  planted  his  feet  be- 
fore him  suddenly,  stopped  with  a  jerk,  and  rose 
on  his  hind  legs.  Then  with  front  feet  still  in  the 
air  he  pivoted  round  and  bolted  away  in  the  op- 
posite direction.  King  was  amazed  to  see  the  girl 
keep  her  seat,  but  his  amazement  increased  when, 
just  before  reaching  the  turn,  the  horse  stopped 
suddenly  as  he  had  done  before,  and  wheeling 
about  came  up  the  trail  towards  him  again  at  the 
same  wild  pace.  King  stood  aside  this  time  and 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  girl's  face  as  she  shot  past 
him.  The  expression  he  saw  there  was  enough 
to  dispel  any  fears  that  he  might  have  enter- 
tained for  her  safety.  A  few  yards  down  the  trail 
the  horse  turned  again,  and  he  saw  the  girl  strike 
him  across  the  nose  with  her  quirt. 

Then  for  fully  ten  minutes  he  watched  a  battle 
royal  between  a  slender  girl  and  a  horse  whose 


26        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

spirit  had  never  been  broken.  He  had  seen  men 
breaking  horses  to  the  saddle,  and  he  had  thrilled 
to  the  excitement  of  it.  But  this  fight  was  dif- 
ferent. The  girl  who  held  her  seat  in  the  battle 
that  was  being  fought  out  before  him  did  her 
work  fearlessly,  firmly,  and  without  speaking  a 
word,  and  King  took  off  his  hat  and  sat  watching 
in  silence. 

Back  and  forth  they  went  on  the  trail,  the  horse 
leaping  and  rearing  at  the  turns,  the  girl  wearing 
him  down  gradually  with  sharp  strokes  of  her 
quirt  across  the  nose.  The  horse  shook  his  head 
at  every  stroke  and  came  back  after  each  turn 
with  as  much  apparent  determination  as  ever. 
The  girl  kept  her  place  without  a  smile,  her  eyes 
steadily  before  her,  intent  on  every  move.  ; 

The  end  came  suddenly.  A  quick  stroked 
caught  the  animal  just  as  his  front  feet  were 
about  to  leave  the  ground,  and  he  stood  quivering 
in  every  limb,  champing  his  bit  and  shaking  his 
head  in  an  effort  to  slacken  the  bridle  rein  that 
the  girl  held  firmly  in  her  hand.  Then  as  he 
stood,  trembling  and  subdued,  the  girl  spoke  for 
the  first  time,  and  turning  him  slowly  round 
brought  him  down  the  trail  at  a  walk. 

King  wanted  to  cry  out  in  admiration  of  the 
superb  manner  in  which  the  girl  had  conducted 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        27 

herself  in  the  struggle,  but  when  she  came  to 
where  he  stood  she  brought  her  horse  to  a  stand- 
still and  turned  to  him  with  a  smile — and  King 
was  dumb. 

Women  had  never  been  a  concern  of  King 
Howden's.  He  had  never  been  able  to  quite  un- 
derstand their  ways,  and  he  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  if  success  in  life  depended  upon  a 
man's  ability  to  succeed  with  women — and  he 
had  known  many  who  had  advanced  such  a 
theory  in  all  seriousness — then  nothing  in  the 
world  was  more  inevitable  than  that  he  should 
fail,  and  fail  miserably,  sooner  or  later.  He  had 
avoided  women  generally,  and  for  years  had  de- 
liberately sought  for  conditions  of  living  in  which 
he  could  reasonably  hope  for  a  chance  to  make 
good  without  them. 

But  here  was  a  woman  no  man  could  avoid. 
In  one  slow  glance  again  he  noted  the  lightning 
that  played  in  her  dark  eyes ;  he  caught  the  wild 
witchery  of  her  tumbled  hair  and  the  beauty  of 
her  cheeks,  flushed  from  the  excitement  of  the 
fight  she  had  just  won,  and  he  lost  himself  in  con- 
templation of  the  smile  that  lent  an  indescribable 
sweetness  to  her  firm  mouth.  She  was  dressed 
plainly — even  roughly — in  a  waist  that  revealed 
the  soft  whiteness  of  her  neck  and  throat  and  the 


28        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

firm  round  curve  of  her  shoulders  and  breast,  and 
in  a  skirt  that  clung  closely  to  her  limbs.  But  of 
these  things  King  Howden  was  only  vaguely  con- 
scious. He  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  her  face, 
with  its  strange  contradiction  of  flashing  eyes  and 
gently  smiling  mouth. 

The  girl  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"You  must  have  been  riding  hard,"  she  said. 
"I  thought  I'd  never  catch  up  with  you." 

"Catch  up?"  King  thought  to  himself,  and  was 
at  a  loss  to  understand. 

"Come  on,"  she  said  quickly,  and  before  he  was 
able  to  reply,  "I'm  going  to  ride  a  little  way  with 
you." 

She  drew  her  rein  back,  pulled  her  horse  about, 
touched  him  lightly  on  the  flank  with  her  quirt, 
and  was  off  at  an  easy  canter  along  the  trail, 
leaving  King  to  follow  or  not  as  he  pleased.  With 
a  slow  smile  of  recognition  of  the  somewhat  ano- 
malous position  he  was  in,  he  turned  into  the 
trail  and  rode  after  her. 

When  he  came  up  with  her  he  drew  his  horse 
in  a  little  and  together  they  rode  for  the  next  half 
hour  through  little  valleys  aftd  over  gently  round- 
ing hills  dimly  outlined  in  the  failing  twilight. 

Here  and  there  a  rabbit  started  up  in  the  trail 
before  them  and  ran  its  foolish  frightened  race 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        29 

ahead  of  them  until  the  dog  came  and  put  it  to 
cover  in  the  low  underbrush  beside  the  roadway. 
Occasionally  a  partridge  or  a  prairie  chicken  got 
up  suddenly  from  its  dust  bath  in  the  middle  of 
the  trail  and  hurried  off  with  much  clucking  and 
beating  of  the  wings.  Once  a  coyote  stood  with 
pricked  ears  before  them  on  the  trail  until  the 
sight  of  Sal  sent  him  off  with  a  lazy,  half  defiant 
lope  to  a  little  knoll,  where  he  perched  himself 
and  waited  while  they  rode  past.  They  caught 
the  delicate  aroma  of  dew  on  the  grass,  and 
brushed  a  warm  fragrance  from  the  foliage  as 
they  swept  close  to  where  the  trees  leaned  a  little 
over  the  trail.  Frequently  they  splashed  through 
little  hurrying  streams  where  the  cold  water  ran 
only  a  few  inches  deep,  or  rode  through  low  mea- 
dows where  the  mist  lay  like  white  shrouds  and 
settled  lightly  above  the  long  grass  that  carpeted 
the  hollows.  And  behind  them  the  sky  had 
deepened  to  a  blood-red  hue  with  long  ribbons  of 
pale  gold  stretching  along  the  horizon  already  far 
to  the  north  of  where  the  sun  had  gone  down. 

They  had  rounded  the  brow  of  a  hill  and  had 
come  out  of  cover  to  a  point  in  the  trail  where  it 
afforded  them  a  wide  outlook  across  a  meadowy 
valley.  The  girl  brought  her  horse  to  a  stand  and 
King  reined  in  beside  her. 


30       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"I  like  this,"  she  said,  waving  her  hand  toward 
the  valley. 

King  looked  at  her,  but  she  had  not  so  much 
as  turned  her  head  towards  him.  For  the  first 
time  he  was  able  to  look  at  her  without  embar- 
rassment. He  was  no  artist  to  analyze  the  fine 
points  of  symmetry  in  face  and  figure.  But  he 
was  a  man — and  the  man  in  him  told  him  that 
she  was  beautiful.  What  he  liked  best  about  her 
was  the  strength  of  her  beauty.  He  knew  at  a 
glance  that  she  was  not  of  the  delicate,  clinging 
kind  that  practise  a  languid  air  and  never  forget 
their  sex.  Here  was  a  girl  whose  heart-beat  was 
strong  with  the  confidence  and  the  reliance  she 
had  learned  to  place  in  herself — and  every  line  of 
her  face,  every  movement  of  her  body,  bore  evi- 
dence to  the  fact.  And  yet,  as  she  sat  and  looked 
out  over  the  valley  half  hidden  under  the  mists, 
there  was  a  soft  warmth  in  her  dark  eyes  that 
made  her  presence  luminous.  For  King  the  girl 
who  sat  before  him  embodied  in  tangible  form,  it 
seemed,  all  he  had  ever  aspired  to,  all  he  had  ever 
even  vaguely  dreamed  of. 

Her  voice,  when  she  spoke,  was  not  the  voice  of 
reproach  that  she  had  used  earlier  in  the  after- 
noon. Now  it  was  soft,  quiet,  even  deep. 

"I  like  it,  too,"  he  said,  in  response  to  her 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        31 

simple  expression  of  admiration  for  what  lay  be- 
fore them.  "But  you  haven't  come  all  this  way 
for  that" — he  waved  his  hand  gently  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  valley. 

She  turned  to  him  quickly.  "No — I  have  seen 
it  before — though  I  don't  remember  when  it  was 
ever  so  beautiful." 

"Nor  I,"  thought  King,  though  he  kept  his 
thoughts  to  himself. 

"What  is-  your  name?"  she  asked  suddenly  and 
with  a  directness  that  brought  a  smile  to  King's 
face. 

He  told  her. 

"And  I  am  Cherry  McBain — my  father  is 
Keith  McBain— 'Old  Silent,'  the  men  call  him," 
she  replied.  "I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  need  your 
help — not  for  me — for  my  father." 

King  looked  at  her  strangely.  "But  a  man," 
he  said  slowly,  "a  man  who  takes  a  dare — " 

"Don't  be  silly!"  she  broke  in  suddenly.  "I 
only  half  believed  that." 

"Don't  you  think  that's  bad  enough?"  replied 
King. 

"Can  you  fight?"  asked  the  girl  abruptly,  dis- 
regarding his  reply. 

The  smile  that  had  rested  upon  King's  face 
during  the  conversation  vanished  all  at  once  be- 


32        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

fore  the  old  grave  look  that  was  habitual  with 
him.  He  did  not  answer  at  once — he  turned  the 
question  over  and  over  again  in  his  mind. 

"Cherry  McBain,"  he  said  at  last,  "I'm  not 
used  to  women — and  women's  ways."  His  eyes 
were  looking  off  across  the  valley  when  he  spoke, 
and  his  voice  was  like  that  of  a  man  speaking  to 
himself.  "I've  known  some  women — a  few — but 
no  woman  ever  asked  me  if  I  could  fight — only 
once — but  she  was  a  foolish  woman — she  wasn't 
good.  No  good  woman  ever  asked  me  that  be- 
fore." 

He  turned  his  face  towards  her  slowly  and 
looked  at  her  with  searching  eyes. 

"But  you,"  he  said  hesitatingly,  "you're  good, 
Cherry  McBain." 

He  was  silent  as  he  looked  at  her  now,  and  his 
Kps  tightened  before  he  spoke  again.  "Years 
ago,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  fought,  and  the  man 
I  struck — we  were  boys  then — was  a  brother. 
I  was  not  myself — I  struck  him  in  anger.  When 
I  understood  what  I  had  done  I  left  him — left  my 
home  and  all — and  came  west.  That  was  ten 
years  ago.  I  wrote  him  a  letter  and  he  asked 
me  to  come  back.  He  said  he  had  forgotten — 
but  I — I  could  never  go  back." 

"Do  you  think  that's  silly  too?" 


She  shook  her  head. 

"I  have  not  hit  any  man  since  that  day,"  he 
said  with  emphasis.  "I  can  fight — I  would  fight 
— quicker  for  a  good  woman  than  anything  else." 

Cherry  McBain  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  "I 
needn't  have  asked  you  that,"  she  said.  "I  didn't 
know.  But  promise  me  that  you  will  come  and 
see  my  father  when  you  are  on  your  way  back — 
old  Gabe  has  told  me  you  are  carrying  the  mail 
for  the  settlement." 

King  pressed  her  hand  gently. 

"I  guess  I'll  come,"  he  said. 

A  smile  brightened  the  girl's  face. 

"Come,"  she  said.  "We'll  have  raspberries  for 
tea." 

"If  it  rains  wildcats,"  he  declared  as  he  released 
her  hand. 

"To-morrow  afternoon,  then,"  she  said,  and 
the  next  moment  she  was  gone. 

King  stood  and  watched  her,  hat  in  hand,  until 
she  had  vanished  from  his  sight.  When  the  beat 
of  the  hoofs  on  the  hard  trail  was  no  longer 
audible  he  shook  his  horse's  bridle  gently  and  re- 
sumed his  way, 

King  did  not  cease  to  think  of  his  brother  when 
the  last  sound  of  hoof-beats  had  died  in  the  dis- 
tance. His  conversation  with  Cherry  McBain 


34       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

had  started  in  his  mind  a  train  of  thought  that 
he  could  not  control. 

As  long  as  King  could  remember,  his  best 
friend  in  all  the  world,  the  one  he  had  loved  the 
most — even  during  that  one  mad  regrettable  mo- 
ment of  passion — was  his  younger  brother,  Dick. 
As  boys  at  home  in  eastern  Canada,  Dick  had  al- 
ways been  the  lucky  one — King's  pranks  had  al- 
ways been  discovered.  In  the  ten  long  years  that 
had  elapsed  since  King  had  struck  west  in  shame 
and  humiliation,  it  was  the  thought  of  having  left 
Dick  that  weighed  most  heavily  upon  him.  It 
was  the  memory  of  Dick's  laughing  face  that  had 
made  his  heart  burn  with  remorse  whenever  he 
remembered  how  weak,  how  foolish  he  had  been. 
During  those  ten  years  his  heart  had  quailed  be- 
fore one  fear  only — the  fear  that  something  might 
happen  to  Dick  before  he  could  see  him  again. 

And  now  as  he  rode  alone  over  the  trail  that 
was  all  but  hidden  in  the  heavy  dusk,  this  fear 
had  gripped  his  heart  so  fiercely  that  he  was  help- 
less to  shake  himself  free.  A  nameless  dread,  a 
pressing  sadness  brooded  over  him.  He  was 
seized  with  a  sense  of  utter  loneliness. 

Some  will  say  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
presentiment.  But  when  King  Howden  reached 
the  end-of-the-steel  that  night  and  found  among 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        35 

the  mail  a  letter  for  himself  announcing  the  death 
of  his  brother,  Dick  Howden,  he  was  convinced, 
whether  reasonably  or  not,  that  voices  had  spoken 
to  him  out  of  the  silence — had  been  speaking  to 
him,  indeed,  for  years,  if  he  had  only  heard  and 
tried  to  understand. 

King  knew  no  rest  that  night.  Early  in  the 
morning  he  left  the  bunkhouse  where  he  had  been 
lying  during  the  night  and  went  out  into  the  open 
where  the  light  of  another  day  was  growing  in  an 
eastern  sky  all  rose  and  gold.  He  found  a  path 
leading  into  the  woods  and  followed  it  for  some 
distance  among  the  trees  to  a  spot  where  it  led 
across  a  little  stream.  Here  he  sat  down  and  for 
a  long  time  looked  at  the  water  and  the  trees  and 
the  changing  colors  of  the  sky. 

When  the  red  sun  pushed  its  way  at  last  above 
the  tree-tops,  there  came  the  sound  of  men  stir- 
ring in  the  camp,  and  the  distant  sharp  rattle  of 
the  wheels  of  a  wagon  bumping  along  over  a 
rough  trail.  A  new  day  had  begun — a  day  when 
strong  men  would  go  out  to  work,  singing  and 
bantering  as  they  went. 

King  got  up  from  his  place  beside  the  stream 
and  stood  with  his  face  to  the  east.  Slowly  he 
lifted  his  right  hand  and  closed  his  fingers.  Then 
he  laid  his  left  hand  over  it. 


36        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

In  the  east  the  day  was  springing. 

In  his  heart  there  was  a  prayer — a  prayer  such 
as  big  men  speak  when  they  have  seen  the  wrong 
they  have  done.  And  who  shall  say  that  the 
prayer  was  not  heard? 

In  his  face  there  was  a  resolve — a  resolve  that 
expressed  itself  in  the  tightening  of  the  fingers 
that  closed  over  his  right  hand.  And  who  shall 
say  that  the  resolve  was  not  recorded  ? 


CHAPTER  THREE 

IN  a  country  where  women  are  seldom  seen,  the 
presence  of  a  pretty  girl  of  twenty-one  is  a 
matter  worthy  of  record — even  if  she  is  the 
daughter  of  a  railway  construction  boss.  For 
Keith  McBain,  reticent,  profane  to  a  frankly 
amazing  degree  on  those  rare  occasions  when  he 
did  speak  to  his  men,  was  a  seasoned  old  man  of 
his  class.  Silent  and  unapproachable — as  is  the 
manner  of  camp  bosses — Keith  McBain  seemed 
at  times  the  least  human  of  them  all.  "Old  Silent" 
the  men  called  him,  partly  on  account  of  an  in- 
stinctive grudge  they  all  bore  him  for  his  mode 
of  hard  dealing,  and  partly,  too,  on  account  of  a 
kind  of  unreasoned  affection  which  they  cher- 
ished for  him  because  of  his  rough-handed 
honesty  and  his  indomitable  will.  When  Old 
Silent  spoke  no  man  spoke  back.  Not  that  he 
was  a  man  to  fear  physically — he  was  a  small, 
dyspeptic,  nervous  man  whom  anyone  of  his  deep- 
chested  camp-followers  could  have  brushed  aside 
with  one  hand.  It  was  rather  the  man's  face  that 
they  feared,  with  its  black  piercing  eyes  that 

37 


38 

never  shifted  their  glance  when  he  spoke,  and  its 
black  sardonic  smile  that  made  an  impenetrable 
mask  for  a  soul  that  no  man  had  ever  seen  re- 
vealed. His  men  all  feared  him — some  of  them 
hated  him — and  yet  they  never  left  him,  once 
their  names  had 'been  placed  on  the  pay-roll. 

Once  only  in  the  memory  of  those  who  worked 
for  him  had  the  hope  ever  arisen  that  the  old  con- 
tractor's manner  might  soften  and  his  hard  face 
relax  in  the  presence  of  the  men.  Just  a  year  ago, 
nearly  a  hundred  miles  back  along  the  line,  Keith 
McBain  had  lost  his  wife  after  a  long  illness.  She 
had  lingered  for  weeks  in  a  pathetic  fight  for  life, 
and  the  old  camp  boss  had  watched  by  her  bed- 
side almost  continuously,  leaving  the  oversight  of 
the  work  wholly  in  the  hands  of  his  foremen. 
Never  had  a  gang  of  men  worked  so  hard  as  those 
men  had  worked  day  after  day  while  Old  Silent 
was  absent  from  his  place,  not  only  out  of  defer- 
ence to  the  frail  woman  who  was  struggling 
gamely  against  too  great  odds,  but  out  of  sheer  re- 
spect for  their  old  boss  whose  burden  of  sorrow 
was  daily  growing  heavier.  And  when  at  last  the 
word  came  that  the  struggle  was  over,  the  men 
had  sat  about  very  late  into  the  night  and  had 
spoken  in  whispers.  Keith  McBain  had  made 
the  grave  with  his  own  hands,  just  off  the  right- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        39 

of-way,  and  had  marked  the  spot  with  a  pile  of 
stones  and  a  rough-hewn  cross.  Then  in  the  days 
that  followed  he  had  been  more  silent  than  ever, 
more  unremitting  in  his  dealing  with  the  men, 
and,  if  possible,  more  profane.  And  yet  every 
last  one  of  his  men  could  not  help  knowing  that 
Keith  McBain's  heart  was  breaking.  His  light 
had  burned  late  into  the  night — and  every  night 
— for  months  following  the  day  that  had  brought 
him  his  great  sorrow. 

Cherry  McBain  had  come  unannounced  into 
the  camp.  In  fact  the  men  had  not  known  of 
her  existence  until  she  rode  into  camp  one  after- 
noon a  couple  of  weeks  before  the  death  of  Mrs. 
McBain.  Only  a  few  of  the  more  fortunate  among 
them  had  had  a  glimpse  of  her  as  she  came  up  the 
trail  escorted  by  McBain's  timekeeper,  who  had 
gone  out  to  meet  her  and  bring  her  to  the  camp. 
But  the  few  that  had  seen  her  knew  at  once  that 
she  was  the  daughter  of  the  woman  who  was 
dying  in  Keith  McBain's  cabin — so  striking  was 
the  resemblance  between  mother  and  daughter. 

During  the  days  that  immediately  followed  her 
arrival  Cherry  was  never  seen  abroad  except  late 
in  the  evenings  when  she  walked  out  with  her 
father  and  came  back  with  her  arms  laden  with 
wild  flowers  and  fern.  But  when  Keith  McBain 


40        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

turned  again  to  resume  his  duties  after  the  dark- 
est episode  of  his  life  had  been  closed,  Cherry  Mc- 
Bain  wandered  alone  along  the  new  grade  or 
saddled  her  horse  and  explored  the  trails  wher- 
ever they  led  in  both  directions  from  the  camp. 

Men  who  work  a  whole  season  in  the  woods 
or  on  a  right-of-way,  and  at  the  end  of  the  season 
fling  their  total  earnings  away  in  one  hilarious 
week  or  two  in  the  nearest  city,  are  likely  to 
classify  women  roughly  and  perhaps  quickly,  even 
if  for  ten  months  out  of  every  twelve  they  never 
hear  the  sound  of  a  woman's  voice.  They  may 
sometimes  make  errors  in  their  classifications, 
but  not  often.  The  first  morning  that  Cherry  Mc- 
Bain  strolled  along  the  edge  of  the  works  and 
paused  here  and  there  to  watch  the  men  as  they 
swung  their  teams  round  in  the  ever  moving  circle 
that  carried  the  earth  away  from  both  sides  of 
the  right-of-way  to  the  centre  where  it  was  graded 
up  into  the  first  rough  form  of  a  road-bed — that 
morning  the  men  registered  their  own  judgments 
concerning  the  daughter  of  Old  Silent.  In  her 
dark  eyes  there  was  the  fearless  look  of  her  father, 
the  look  that  pierced  through  the  surface  and  saw 
through  the  veneer  to  what  lay  behind.  In  her 
smile  there  was  the  essence  of  her  mother's  gentle 
nature  —  a  nature  before  which  men  down 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        41 

through  the  centuries  have  bowed  in  silent  wor- 
ship. 

But  there  was  something  more,  something  that 
was  her  own.  Men  saw  it  in  her  lightning  glance 
and  in  the  quick  toss  she  gave  her  head  when  she 
shook  back  her  wind-blown,  dark-brown  hair. 
Not  one  of  the  men  had  been  able  to  tell  exactly 
what  it  was  that  was  there,  but  all  alike  were  con- 
vinced that  while  Keith  McBain  might  command 
obedience  in  his  men  and  squelch  even  his  fore- 
man with  a  look  or  an  explosive  word  or  two,  he 
had  no  look  that  could  have  served  him  in  a  con- 
test with  the  will  of  Cherry  McBain. 

It  was  six  o'clock  by  the  time  King  reached 
McBain's  camp  on  his  return  trip.  In  the  dis- 
tance he  saw  the  men  leaving  the  grade  and 
making  their  way  towards  the  camp,  the  sound 
of  their  voices  coming  to  him  with  heartening  ef- 
fect after  his  long  silent  trip,  during  which  his 
mind  had  gone  back  irresistibly  to  the  days  when 
he  and  his  brother  had  romped  together  as  boys. 

When  he  came  to  where  the  path  led  from  the 
trail  to  MacBain's  cabin  he  turned  abruptly,  and 
getting  down  from  the  saddle  allowed  his  horse 
to  follow  him  while  he  made  his  way  on  foot  along 
the  narrow  path.  The  little  cabin  was  built  of 


42        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

logs  and  stood  well  back  from  the  trail,  in  the 
protecting  shade  of  a  clump  of  tamaracs. 

Keith  McBain  was  sitting  by  the  doorway,  his 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  eyes  turned  to  the  hills  that 
rose  up,  scraggly  and  covered  with  fallen  and 
charred  timbers,  to  the  south  of  the  cabin. 

King's  first  feeling  was  one  of  pity.  The  old 
man  who  sat- there  smoking  his  pipe  and  musing 
was  a  broken  man,  and  every  line  on  his  face 
showed  it.  There  was  in  his  eyes  the  look  of  a 
man  whose  power  of  will  was  almost  gone.  There 
was  a  look  of  fear  in  them,  a  fear  lest  he  should 
reveal  his  weakness  to  others.  He  had  an  odd 
trick  of  glancing  quickly  about  him  as  if  he 
wished  to  assure  himself  that  no  one  was  coming 
upon  him  unannounced.  His  mouth  was  tight- 
lipped,  his  face  covered  with  a  short-clipped  beard 
that  once  had  been  black  but  now  showed  gray 
and  pale  against  the  bloodless  cheeks. 

And  yet,  for  all  the  face  showed  of  weakness, 
King  was  at  once  struck  by  the  intensity  and  the 
unswerving  directness  of  his  gaze  when  Keith 
McBain  turned  to  look  at  him.  At  first  there 
seemed  to  be  a  shadow  of  suspicion  in  the  grizzled 
old  face,  but  King  could  not  help  observing  the 
slow  change  to  something  almost  kindly  that 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        43 

showed  deep  in  the  old  man's  eyes  as  he  got  up 
and  extended  his  hand. 

"Come  and  sit  down,"  he  said.  "The  girl  told 
me  you  were  coming.  She's  off  somewhere  in  the 
hills  after  berries — come  and  sit  down." 

When  they  had  talked  a  little  King  was  so 
much  moved  by  the  note  of  pathos  that  crept  into 
the  voice  of  Keith  McBain  that  he  determined 
at  once  to  share  with  him  the  news  that  he  had 
received  only  the  night  before.  Evidently  Old 
Silent  was  in  a  pensive  mood,  and  King  inwardly 
longed  for  someone  to  whom  he  could  speak  con- 
cerning what  had  lain  heavily  on  his  heart  all 
day. 

For  a  long  time  after  King  had  spoken,  Keith 
McBain  sat  without  uttering  a  word. 

"Aye,  boy,  you've  suffered  a  great  loss,"  he  said 
at  last,  and  his  gaze  was  straight  before  him  to- 
wards the  hill-tops  in  the  distance.  As  he  con- 
tinued he  seemed  to  be  talking  to  himself  rather 
than  to  King.  "It's  hard  for  men  to  know  what 
a  thing  like  this  means  until  they  have  tasted  it 
themselves.  For  years  I  have  gone  out  in  the 
morning  with  men  when  the  light  was  scarce 
showing  through  the  swamp  and  have  come  in 
again  at  night  tired  after  the  work  of  the  day  to 
sleep — and  make  ready  for  the  next  day.  And 


44        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

I've  watched  them — all  ready  for  the  'roll  out' 
when  the  call  came  at  daybreak.  And  I've  mar- 
velled at  their  punctuality — and  their  willing- 
ness. And  then  a  day  would  come  when  one  of 
them  wouldn't  be  in  his  place.  He'd  heard  the 
call  but  couldn't  go  out.  And  later — perhaps  a 
few  days  just — he  didn't  hear  it — and  the  rest  of 
us  were  quieter  for  a  while — a  little  less  given  to 
talking;  and  then  things  went  on  very  much  as 
usual  and  we  forgot.  It's  very  good  to  forget." 

King  was  pleased  with  the  complete  freedom 
from  restraint  that  now  marked  the  old  man's 
manner.  He  talked  well,  with  the  merest  trace  of 
Scotch  accent  recognizable  in  the  way  he  rolled 
his  r's.  He  paused  a  moment  and  King  made  no 
attempt  to  interrupt.  Finally  he  began  again. 

"Aye — it's  good  to  forget — when  you  can.  But 
there  are  times  when  a  man  can't  forget — not  al- 
together. You  and  I  know  that,  my  boy — we 
know  it  too  well.  And  we  won't  talk  about  it 
either — except  to  mention  it  in  passing.  And  in 
passing  I  want  to  say  that  I  am  very  sorry. 
Where's  the  use  trying  to  say  more — a  man 
can't." 

He  tapped  his  pipe  gently  against  his  hand  and 
went  leisurely  about  the  task  of  filling  it  again. 

"A  straight  man — and  a  clean  man,"  he  said 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        45 

gently,  "is  a  rare  enough  article.  As  men  go,  I 
haven't  seen  many  that  could  answer  to  that  de- 
scription. The  world  is  full  of  good  women,  my 
boy — I've  seen  a  few  they  told  me  weren't 
straight  and  weren't  clean,  but  I've  never  known 
any  such  myself — though  I've  known  a  lot  of 
women,  too.  But  the  men  I've  known — " 

He  paused  as  if  in  contemplation  of  how  he 
should  express  most  effectively  what  was  on  his 
mind.  In  the  interval  of  silence  there  was  a 
sound  of  excited  voices  and  hurried  footsteps 
coming  down  the  path  towards  the  cabin.  Look- 
ing up  King  recognized  the  two  men  approaching 
as  the  camp  cook  and  his  assistant.  Their  differ- 
ences had  apparently  reached  a  head,  and  they 
were  coming  to  thresh  the  matter  out  before  the 
boss. 

In  an  instant  Keith  McBain  was  himself  again. 
Leaping  up  before  the  men  had  come  within 
speaking  distance  he  met  them  in  the  pathway 
and  fell  upon  them  with  a  flow  of  profanity  that 
not  only  reduced  the  two  to  impotent  silence  but 
sent  them  back  along  the  pathway  and  up  the 
trail  to  the  camp,  the  picture  of  mute  dejection 
and  defeat. 

When  the  old  contractor  returned  and  took  his 
seat  again,  he  lighted  his  pipe  in  bad  mood  and 


46        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

puffed  at  it  vigorously  without  speaking  a  word. 
It  required  only  a  glance  at  his  face  to  realize 
that  a  change  had  come  over  him.  Keith  Mc- 
Bain  was  Old  Silent  again  and  nothing  would 
bring  him  out  of  his  surly  mood. 

King  got  up  slowly  and  started  down  the  foot- 
path that  led  to  the  hills  back  of  the  cabin.  Some- 
where back  in  the  shambles  of  pitched  timbers 
and  broken  tree-trunks  was  Cherry  McBain. 
When  he  came  finally  to  where  the  path  was  so 
dimly  marked  that  he  could  follow  it  no  farther 
he  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  little  knoll  and  looked 
in  every  direction  along  the  face  of  the  hill  to  see 
if  Cherry  were  anywhere  in  sight.  Finally,  when 
he  had  looked  for  some  time  in  vain,  he  called 
and  waited  until  the  echoes  died  away  in  silence. 
There  was  no  reply.  Getting  down  from  the  knoll 
he  scrambled  further  up  the  hill.  He  had  seen  a 
patch  of  grey  ground  away  to  the  west  where  the 
fires  of  the  year  before  had  swept  the  hills  clear 
of  vegetation.  In  ten  minutes  he  emerged  from 
the  cover  of  the  evergreens  and  looked  across  the 
tangled  mass  of  half-burned  and  fallen  timbers. 
The  climb  had  not  been  an  easy  one,  and  it  was 
only  with  slight  hope  that  he  gave  his  call  again 
and  stood  tense  and  motionless  as  he  listened  for 
a  reply.  From  every  side  the  echoes  came  back 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        47 

and  gradually  died  away  in  faint  waves  that 
finally  settled  into  stillness.  He  was  about  to 
turn  back  again  and  make  for  the  camp,  but  just 
once  more  he  called  and  waited. 

Almost  immediately  and  from  a  surprisingly 
short  distance  away  Cherry's  voice  came  clear  to 
him  across  the  patch  of  grey.  Turning  at  once  in 
the  direction  of  the  voice  he  looked  and  saw  her 
waving  her  hand  to  him.  In  a  few  moments  he 
was  beside  her,  where  she  was  seated  on  the 
ground  picking  twigs  and  leaves  out  of  the  small 
pail  of  berries  she  held  in  her  lap.  She  looked 
up  at  him  and  laughed  roguishly,  then  offered 
him  a  large  red  berry  which  she  held  up  to  him 
between  stained  finger  and  thumb. 

"Didn't  you  hear  me  call  the  first  time?"  he 
asked  her. 

She  dropped  her  eyes  and  seemed  very  intent 
upon  rolling  the  berries  about  in  a  vain  search  for 
more  leaves.  He  waited  for  her  answer.  Ordin- 
arily he  would  not  have  asked  the  question  seri- 
ously. Even  now  he  had  no  thought  of  accusing 
her.  When  she  finally  spoke  he  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"I — heard — you,"  she  said,  very  slowly,  and 
the  tone  of  her  voice  was  strange  to  King. 

He  waited,  not  knowing  what  to  say  in  return, 


48        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  hoping,  too,  that  she  might  say  something 
without  his  prompting  her.  When  he  saw  that 
she  was  not  going  to  speak,  he  asked  another 
question  as  directly  as  he  had  asked  the  first. 

"Why  didn't  you  answer?" 

The  next  moment  he  wished  with  all  his  heart 
that  he  had  not  spoken.  The  look  she  gave  him 
was  one  in  which  appeal  and  disappointment 
were  so  deeply  mingled  that  he  cursed  himself 
inwardly  for  his  own  clumsiness. 

"Don't  ask  me  why,"  she  said.  Then  as  she 
saw  the  grave  look  in  King's  eyes  she  got  up  and 
placed  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "Oh,  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  you,"  she  said  in  a  voice  that  was  all 
softness.  "I — I  didn't  know  at  first  that — that  it 
was  you." 

Suddenly  her  manner  changed. 

"Let's  go  down  now,"  she  said  quickly,  picking 
up  her  pail  of  berries.  "We're  going  to  have  tea." 

Almost  as  she  spoke  the  words  she  was  off 
down  the  hill  at  a  pace  that  made  King  exert 
himself  to  keep  up  with  her.  She  ran  along  the 
smooth  round  timbers  and  leaped  from  one  to, 
another  of  the  fallen  logs  so  lightly  and  grace- 
fully that  King  was  put  to  it  to  save  himself  from 
being  completely  outstripped.  She  carried  her 
berries  in  one  hand  and  her  hat  in  the  other,  and 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        49 

her  hair,  blown  loose  by  the  breeze,  shone  in  the 
sunlight — transparent  gold  against  a  mass  of 
black. 

As  he  watched  her,  something  of  the  wonder  of 
their  first  meeting  came  back  to  him.  He  had 
never  seen  a  girl  so  lithe,  so  wild,  so  beautiful. 
There  was  exultation  in  her  every  movement,  and 
her  laugh  rippled  musically  as  she  leaped  and 
climbed  and  ran  along  over  the  most  difficult 
ground.  Sometimes  she  looked  back  at  him  as  if 
to  make  sure  that  he  was  following,  and  he  saw 
her  face  radiant  with  life  and  youth.  Once  she 
waited  till  he  came  up  to  her  before  venturing 
along  a  dizzy  bit  of  footing  that  required  care  in 
passing.  When  he  came  to  her  she  placed  her 
hand  in  his  and  together  they  went  on. 

From  the  look  she  gave  him  he  scarcely  knew 
whether  she  wanted  help  herself  or  wished  to  help 
him.  But  the  clasp  of  her  hand  was  so  firm,  so 
throbbing  with  vitality,  that  he  wished  he  might 
still  hold  those  fingers  closed  within  his  own  af- 
ter they  had  come  to  level  footing.  The  thought 
of  it  sent  the  blood  coursing  through  his  veins, 
and  an  impulse  started  up  within  him — an  im- 
pulse that  came  out  of  the  very  depths  of  his  be- 
ing and  made  him  forget  for  the  time  being 
everything  in  the  world  except  this  moment  on  a 


50        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

wild  hillside  with  beauty  and  grace  and  youth 
within  his  reach. 

When  they  reached  the  evergreens  Cherry 
bounded  ahead  and  left  him  to  follow.  The 
ground  was  level  and  soft  underfoot  and  carpeted 
with  cones  and  needles.  Once  she  stopped  sud- 
denly in  a  little  space  open  to  the  sky,  and  stoop- 
ing down  picked  a  wildflower  and  held  it  up  to 
him. 

"Not  often  you  find  them  growing  in  a  place 
so  sheltered  as  this,"  she  remarked  as  she  gave 
him  the  flower. 

He  took  it  and  looked  from  the  flower,  pure, 
white  and  soft,  to  her  face.  Unconsciously  his 
gaze  shifted  to  her  throat,  as  pure  and  white  and 
soft  as  the  flower  he  held  in  his  hand.  Then  she 
turned  quickly  and  hurried  off  again  into  the 
cover  of  the  evergreens. 

Once  she  stopped  so  suddenly  and  turned  so 
unexpectedly  to  meet  him  that  he  had  almost  run 
into  her  before  he  could  check  himself.  Then  as 
he  stood  in  questioning  attitude  she  shook  her 
hair  back  from  her  face  and  with  a  ripple  of  a' 
laugh  was  away  again  before  he  could  speak. 

As  King  followed  her  an  unpleasant  thought 
came  suddenly  to  him.  There  was  one  thing  he 
had  always  dreaded  in  women.  He  had  ixever 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        51 

been  quite  unconscious  of  the  subtle  power  they 
exerted — but  he  had  always  been  suspicious  of 
their  motives.  There  was  something  so  free,  so 
healthful,  so  simple  in  Cherry's  manner  that  he 
was  almost  disarmed  of  suspicion.  And  yet  she 
was  so  coy,  so  wilful,  so  roguish  that  instinctively 
he  felt  himself  assuming  the  defensive — a  defen- 
sive, too,  against  himself  and  the  impulses  that 
arose  within  him  and  clamored  for  expression. 

Suddenly  she  stopped  and  looked  down  at  a 
small  pool  of  cool  fresh  water  fed  from  a  little 
spring  that  bubbled  out  of  the  earth  just  a  few 
yards  away.  A  half  dozen  large  stones  lay  touch- 
ing the  edge  of  the  water,  and  before  King  real- 
ized what  she  was  about,  she  had  dropped  her 
berries  and  hat  and  was  on  her  knees  with  her 
two  hands  resting  on  a  small  boulder,  her  lips 
touching  the  surface  of  the  water.  As  he  looked 
at  her  he  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  child 
she  was — and  how  very  much  older  he  was.  Nor 
could  he  think  it  any  less  when  in  a  moment  she 
raised  her  head  and  glanced  up  at  him  with  a  rare 
flush  in  her  cheeks. 

"Oh,  this  is  good,"  she  cried.  "Look — there's 
a  stone  for  you !" 

He  smiled  slowly,  but  her  spirit  was  irresist- 
ible. He  got  down  beside  her,  his  hands  upon  a 


52        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

boulder  almost  touching  the  stone  upon  which 
she  was  leaning  for  support. 

When  they  had  both  drunk  from  the  pool,  in- 
stead of  getting  up  immediately,  they  remained 
where  they  were,  their  hands  upon  the  boulders, 
their  eyes  fixed  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
water  beneath  them.  For  a  moment  only  they 
looked,  a  moment  in  which  both  felt  a  power  like 
a  spell  that  held  them  gazing  into  the  far  depths 
that  lay  mirrored  in  the  quiet  pool.  They  were 
gazing  like  two  children  deep  down  into  the 
depths  of  the  blue  skies  reflected  far  below 
where  the  white  clouds  floated  beyond  the  down- 
ward pointing  tops  of  evergreens. 

All  at  once,  however,  King  glanced  at  the  face 
of  the  girl  where  it  was  smiling  up  at  him  from  the 
water — and  in  a  moment  he  was  conscious  of  a 
change.  Though  her  face  was  smiling  it  was 
grave  too,  grave  even  as  his,  and  he  knew  that  in 
the  look  each  gave  the  other  there  were  depths 
that  were  more  unfathomable  than  the  skies — 
the  depths  of  life  itself  in  all  its  mystery  and  seri- 
ous meaning. 

They  got  up  and  walked  off  down  the  path  to- 
wards the  cabin,  strangely  silent,  both  of  them. 
As  they  emerged  from  the  cover  of  the  woods  and 
came  within  sight  of  the  cabin  only  a  few  yards 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        53 

ahead  of  them,  Cherry  stopped  and  laid  her  hand 
quickly  upon  King's  arm.  King  glanced  at  her, 
and  then  turned  in  the  direction  indicated  by  her 
eyes.  A  man  was  just  leaving  the  doorway  of  the 
cabin  where  old  Keith  McBain  was  still  sitting. 
It  was  McCartney.  , 

For  a  moment  Cherry  stood  silently  watching 
him,  her  hand  still  upon  King's  arm.  Then  she 
started  slowly  towards  the  cabin,  her  eyes  still 
following  the  movements  of  the  big  foreman  as 
he  walked  down  the  path  that  led  from  the  cabin 
to  the  camp. 

"You  wanted  to  know  why  I  didn't  answer 
when  first  you  called  me  to-day,"  she  said,  air 
most  in  a  whisper.  "Well — I  wasn't  sure  that  it 
was  you — I  thought  it  might  be  him." 

There  came  into  her  eyes  a  look  of  appeal 
which  changed  quickly  to  the  look  that  King 
had  seen  there  the  night  before  when  she  had 
asked  him  if  he  could  fight.  She  seemed  on  the 
point  of  speaking,  but  with  an  impatient  toss  of 
her  head  she  hurried  down  the  pathway,  King 
following  closely  behind  her. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

IN  another  hour  King  was  ready  to  take  the 
trail  again.  Beside  him  stood  Cherry ,  her  own 
black  horse  waiting  only  a  few  yards  away. 

A  dark  cloud  had  risen  in  the  north-east,  and 
King  glanced  quickly  about  him  at  the  skies  and 
at  the  trees  rustling  noisily  in  the  little  breeze 
that  had  sprung  up. 

"It's  like  rain,"  he  warned  her  quietly.  "Per- 
haps you'd  better  not  go  this  time." 

The  faintest  suspicion  of  a  frown  passed  quick- 
ly over  her  face,  but  that  was  all  the  reply  his 
warning  drew  from  her.  Before  he  could  help  her 
she  had  stepped  upon  a  low-cut  stump  and  had 
sprung  lightly  into  the  saddle. 

Keith  McBain  watched  them  from  his  seat 
near  the  doorway. 

"I'll  be  looking  for  you  early,  my  girl,"  he  said. 

"I'll  be  back  before  it  begins  to  rain,"  she  re- 
plied, and  turning  her  horse  about  started  to- 
wards the  trail. 

King  got  up  at  once,  pausing  a  moment  to  bid 
the  old  man  good-bye  before  he  followed  Cherry. 

54 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        55 

"Look  after  yourself,"  the  old  fellow  replied, 
"and  come  in  next  trip.  It'll  be  dull  for  you  now 
— and  we'd  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"I'll  come,"  King  replied.  "I'd  like  to  come — 
and  I'd  like  to  hear  you  talk  again." 

"And  send  that  girl  of  mine  back  before  she 
gets  too  far  away,"  the  old  fellow  called  to  King 
who  had  already  started  down  the  pathway. 

The  clouds  that  were  gathering  behind  them 
as  they  rode  westward  seemed  to  hasten  the 
coming  of  the  darkness,  although  the  sun  was  just 
setting  when  they  started.  Far  up  the  right-of- 
way,  along  which  the  trail  ran  for  a  little  dis- 
tance, the  western  sky  was  a  blaze  of  glory  be- 
tween the  rows  of  tall  trees  that  stood  back  from 
the  grade  on  either  side.  Once  or  twice  as  they 
rode  along  King  turned  in  his  saddle  to  look 
again  at  the  storm  clouds  gathering  in  the  east. 
There  was  little  fear  of  their  being  overtaken  by 
the  storm — it  was  still  a  long  way  off  and  was 
coming  up  very  slowly.  And  yet  King  wondered 
that  the  girl  should  be  so  keen  upon  taking  a  ride 
when  at  any  moment  the  dark  bank  of  heavy 
thunder  clouds  might  suddenly  rush  up  and  force 
her  to  ride  back  through  a  drenching  rain,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  thunder  and  lightning.  But  such 
a  possibility  apparently  never  entered  the  mind 


56        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

of  Cherry  McBain,  or  if  it  did  she  never  showed 
the  least  concern  about  it.  She  urged  her  horse 
forward  at  a  steady  pace  that  made  King  hurry 
to  keep  up.  Not  till  they  had  covered  the  whole 
length  of  the  trail  lying  along  the  right-of-way 
and  had  gone  some  distance  beyond  where  it 
turned  into  the  woods  and  started  up  the  hill  did 
she  draw  rein.  Then  she  brought  her  horse 
slowly  to  a  walk  and  turned  to  look  behind  her. 
She  had  not  spoken  since  she  left  the  cabin,  and 
as  King  drew  up  with  her  he  ventured  to  ask  if 
she  didn't  think  she  had  gone  far  enough.  The 
look  she  gave  him  by  way  of  reply  was  enough  to 
make  him  wish  he  had  not  spoken. 

"Are  you  really  so  anxious  to  have  me  go 
back?"  she  asked. 

It  was  King's  turn  to  look  at  her  in  surprise. 
There  was  something  more  than  surprise  in  his 
voice,  however,  when  he  spoke. 

"I  guess  I  must  have  said  what  wasn't  in  my 
mind  to  say,"  he  replied  very  quietly.  "I  don't 
think  you  got  me  quite  right  there." 

Suddenly  she  brought  her  horse  to  a  standstill 
and  slipped  out  of  the  saddle  to  the  ground. 

"Get  down  and  walk  for  a  little  while,"  she 
said,  looking  about  her  as  she  spoke.  "The  rain 
is  a  long  way  off  yet  and  I'm  not  afraid." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        57 

King  responded  by  getting  down  at  once.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  with  the  bridle  in  his  hand 
and  waited  for  her  to  come  up  to  him.  Then  they 
walked  slowly  side  by  side  along  the  trail.  For  a 
few  minutes  they  proceeded  in  silence,  King  wait- 
ing for  her  to  begin. 

"I  was  afraid  you  might  want  to  send  me 
back,"  she  began  at  last,  "and  I  didn't  want  to 
go.  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you.  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  my  father.  You  saw  him  to-night,  and 
you  know  there  is  something  wrong — you 
couldn't  help  knowing  that  as  well  as  I  do." 

She  was  not  asking  a  question.  She  was  merely 
stating  a  fact  in  which  she  confidently  expected 
King's  concurrence.  The  pause  was  not  to  give 
him  an  opportunity  of  replying.  She  wished  only 
to  collect  her  thoughts,  to  marshal  the  parts  of 
the  story  she  was  about  to  tell  him. 

"My  father  is  a  railway  construction  contrac- 
tor," she  went  on  after  she  had  walked  a  few  yards 
without  speaking.  "The  men  love  him — and 
they  hate  him — both  at  the  same  time.  He's 
generous  and  he's  straight,  and  he's  good — but 
he's  hard  in  his  dealings  and  he  crushes  everyone 
who  opposes  him.  For  years  he  has  taken  rail- 
way contracts  and  worked  in  the  woods.  I  was 
born  in  a  mining  camp  out  west,  where  my  father 


58        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

was  prospecting.  When  I  began  to  grow  up  I 
was  allowed  to  spend  only  a  few  weeks  each  sum- 
mer in  camp  with  him  and  mother.  The  rest  of 
the  summer  I  spent  with  my  aunt  in  Winnipeg, 
where  I  went  to  school.  But  I  never  liked  it.  I 
always  wanted  to  be  with  them  in  the  camp.  I 
loved  the  life  and  I  loved  the  men  and  their  rough 
ways.  Most  of  all,  I  loved  my  father — my 
mother  was  very  quiet  and  very  sweet,  but  my 
father  and  I  have  always  been  chums." 

She  paused  a  moment  to  pick  up  a  small  stick 
from  the  road  which  she  sent  whirling  along  the 
trail  ahead  of  her. 

"One  day  something  happened.  My  mother 
told  me  what  she  knew  about  it  and  my  father 
knows  that  she  told  me,  but  he  has  never  spoken 
to  me  about  it.  Two  years  ago  he  left  my  mother 
and  me  in  the  city  and  went  to  the  coast  with 
some  others  to  look  for  gold.  One  of  the  men 
was  Bill  McCartney,  who  was  a  teamster  for  my 
father  during  the  previous  summer.  In  the 
spring  they  came  back  unexpectedly.  Father  had 
written  us  to  tell  us  that  he  had  made  a  good 
strike,  but  when  he  came  back  there  was  a  change. 
McCartney  was  with  him,  and  one  night  they  sat 
all  night  long  and  there  were  loud  words  between 
them.  In  the  morning  my  father  told  us  that  he 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        59 

had  lost  everything  and  that  McCartney  was 
going  back  to  the  coast  again.  He  told 
mother  something  that  made  her  cry,  but  he 
said,  'A  bargain  is  a  bargain — and  I  count  this 
a  good  bargain.'  Those  are  the  only  words  I 
ever  heard  him  speak  about  the  affair.  McCart- 
ney left  that  night.  After  that  my  mother  grew 
sick — and  she  never  got  better.  Later  I  came  to 
camp  to  be  with  her,  and  one  night  she  told  me 
that  she  was  dying — she  said  her  heart  was  break- 
ing— breaking  for  my  father.  She  told  me  that 
some  day  McCartney  would  be  back — that  she 
hoped  she  might  die  before  he  came.  She  died 
last  summer  and  McCartney  came  back  just  a 
few  weeks  later." 

The  muscles  in  King's  arms  grew  rigid  and  his 
hands  clenched  fiercely  as  his  mind  rested  upon 
the  fragmentary  story  that  Cherry  McBain  had 
told  him.  Instinctively  he  felt  that  Bill  McCart- 
ney had  been  in  some  way  the  cause  of  the  death 
of  Keith  McBain's  wife. 

"There  was  something  more,"  she  said,  sud- 
denly breaking  in  upon  his  musing.  "When 
McCartney  came  back  my  father  made  him  fore- 
man of  the  camp  and  ever  since  then  the  con- 
trol of  the  work  has  been  gradually  passing  out 
of  father's  hands.  To  make  matters  worse, 


60        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

father  has  been  drinking  until  his  very  mind  is 
going.  Some  day,  I  am  afraid,  he  will  drink 
himself  to  death.  And  it  is  not  all  on  account 
of  the  loss  of  my  mother.  Thejje  is  something 
else.  The  bargain  he  made  with  McCartney  did 
not  work  out  satisfactorily.  The  claim  turned 
out  badly  and  McCartney  came  back  dissatisfied. 
And  now — though  he  has  never  said  so  openly — 
he  has  plans  of  a  different  kind.  Once  he  met  me 
alone  on  the  trail — he  had  followed  me  without 
my  knowing  it — and  when  he  tried  to  be  pleasant 
to  me  in  his  own  way,  I  told  him  to  leave  me.  He 
grinned  and  took  me  by  the  arm  and  then — I 
struck  him  with  my  hand  across  the  face.  His 
expression  never  changed,  but  he  warned  me 
never  to  do  that  again — and  he  spoke  of  my 
father.  The  next  day  father  came  to  me — his 
voice  broken — his  face  haggard;  he  hadn't  slept 
all  night.  And  he  told  me  not  to  make  McCart- 
ney angry.  He  told  me  to  stay  away  from  him 
— go  back  to  the  city — anything,  but  to  keep  out 
of  his  way  and  give  him  no  cause  for  anger.  I 
told  my  father  that  I  would  not  leave  him — and 
I  won't.  But  I  can't  go  anywhere  without  that 
man  shadowing  me.  I  can't  speak  to  one  of  the 
men  but  he  comes  and  forces  his  attentions  upon 
me,  though  he  knows  that  I  hate  him.  One  thing 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        61 

— he  has  never  offered  to  touch  me  again,  and  I 
have  never  had  the  heart  to  tell  him  what  I  think. 
I  am  always  thinking  of  what  may  happen — and 
I  can  see  the  fear  in  my  father's  eyes." 

She  came  a  little  closer  to  King  and  laid  her 
hand  on  his  arm. 

"Some  day,"  she  said  slowly,  and  her  breast 
rose  and  fell  fitfully  as  she  spoke,  "some  day  he 
will  not  wait  any  longer.  I  shall  have  to  make 
my  choice.  Either  I  shall  smile  on  him  and 
accept  his  attentions — or  I  shall  send  him  away 
and  bring  upon  myself  the  complete  ruin  of  a 
life  that  is  already  broken  beyond  hope  of  repair." 

A  faint  rumbling  of  distant  thunder  caused 
them  both  to  stop  and  look  behind  them. 

"It  is  something  new  for  me  to  be  afraid.  I 
never  was  afraid  before — only  there  has  been  a 
change — a  change  that  I  don't  like  because  I 
don't  know  how  to  meet  it.  The  men  in  the  camp 
have  always  been  good  to  me.  My  mother  was 
good  to  them  and  they  liked  her — and  I  have 
tried  to  be  good  to  them.  I  have  always  thought 
they  liked  me  too.  But  there  are  some — we 
meet  them  once  in  a  while — who  can't  stand  good 
treatment.  They  weren't  born  for  it.  And 
McCartney  has  got  a  few  of  that  kind  with  him." 

They  had  come  to  a  ridge  overlooking  a  valley, 


62        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

a  sort  of  ravine,  through  which  a  small  stream 
picked  its  straggling  course  between  the  hills. 
Dusk  had  already  set  in  and  the  stream  was  only 
faintly  visible. 

Without  announcing  her  intentions,  Cherry 
dropped  her  bridle-rein  and  left  her  horse  stand- 
ing on  the  trail  while  she  led  the  way  to  a  knoll 
that  commanded  a  better  view  of  the  ravine.  For 
a  long  time  she  stood  looking  to  the  westward 
where  only  a  faint  arc  of  light  was  still  left  low 
upon  the  horizon.  Her  hat  was  in  her  hand  and 
the  quiet  breeze  that  came  from  the  east  blew  a 
few  loose  locks  of  her  dark  hair  about  her  face. 
King  gazed  at  her  intently,  and  thought  of 
McCartney. 

He  had  picked  up  a  stout  tamarac  stick  on  his 
way  to  the  knoll.  It  was  almost  as  thick  as  his 
wrist  and  was  sound  and  dry.  Without  speak- 
ing a  word  and  without  twitching  a  muscle  of  his 
face  he  slowly  bent  the  stick  in  his  two  hands 
until  it  began  to  snap.  Then  he  twisted  it  until 
the  frayed  ends  parted  and  he  held  the  two  ragged 
bits  of  stick  in  his  hands.  These  he  flung 
into  a  clump  of  bushes  on  the  slope  below. 

Cherry  looked  at  him  quietly. 

"No,"  she  said  slowly,  "not  that— not  that. 
Some  day  it  may  have  to  come — some  day  I  may 
call  you — but  not  yet." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        63 

King  smiled  gravely. 

"I  told  you  last  night  about  my  brother,  Dick," 
He  said.  "Well— Dick  is  dead." 

"King!" 

She  had  never  before  called  him  by  his  first 
name. 

"Yes — I  had  a  letter  last  night.  It  was  wait- 
ing for  me  when  I  got  down.  But  that's  all  gone 
now — it's  past  and  settled.  But  this  other  thing 
— it  has  mixed  me  some.  I  didn't  think  I'd  ever 
want  to  hit  a  man  again.  And  I'm  not  looking 
for  McCartney — not  for  any  man,"  he  said,  and 
his  eyes  turned  to  the  spot  where  he  had  thrown 
the  broken  stick.  "But  no  man  ever  found  me 
running — and  Bill  McCartney  won't." 

Cherry  laid  one  hand  on  his  arm  and  looked 
at  him. 

"He  has  gone  to  town  with  a  lot  of  men  to- 
night," she  said.  "They  often  ride  in  on  Satur- 
day night — that's  why  we  have  been  able  to  ride 
and  talk  together.  He  will  be  there  when  you 
get  to  town — and  all  day  to-morrow.  And  listen 
— I'm  not  afraid — not  afraid  for  you,  nor  for 
me.  But  I  don't  want  you  to  meet  him  yet." 

King's  reply  came  quietly  and  with  great 
deliberation. 

"I've  been  in  that  town  since  the  first  tent  was 
pitched,"  he  observed  in  a  voice  that  was  even 


64       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  showed  no  excitement.  "IVe  watched  it 
grow  up — and  I've  gone  pretty  much  where  I 
liked.  I  guess  I'll  go  on  in  about  the  same  way." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  that,"  Cherry  replied. 
"I've  told  you  I'm  not  afraid  for  you — and  not 
for  myself.  But  if  the  break  should  come — " 

"I  guess  you  don't  need  to  worry  about  that," 
King  remarked.  "There  won't  be  any  break  be- 
tween me  and  McCartney — not  till  there's  a  rea- 
son for  it." 

Cherry  went  back  again  to  the  trail  and  taking 
the  bridle-rein  in  her  hand  led  the  way  down 
towards  the  river.  King  followed  her  until 
they  came  to  the  roughly-made  bridge  that 
spanned  the  little  stream,  a  hurriedly  constructed 
bridge  of  tamarac  poles  that  had  been  thrown 
into  place  by  the  advance  parties  of  railway 
workers. 

"I  have  never  gone  farther  than  this,"  said 
Cherry,  when  they  had  come  to  the  centre  of  the 
bridge.  "I  often  ride  out  in  the  evenings  and 
stand  here  for  a  while  before  going  back.  Some 
day  I  am  going  on  to  town,  just  to  see  what  sort 
of  place  you  have." 

"This  is  the  White  Pine,"  said  King.  "I  have 
crossed  it  often  higher  up.  It  gets  very  nasty 
after  two  or  three  days'  rain." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        65 

Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  reminded  them 
that  the  storm  was  approaching.  While  they 
talked  they  had  all  but  forgotten  the  black  clouds 
rolling  up  from  the  east.  Cherry  got  up  at  once 
upon  the  stout  log  that  ran  along  the  side  of  the 
bridge  to  keep  the  poles  in  place,  and  putting  one 
foot  into  the  stirrup  drew  herself  up  lightly  into 
the  saddle.  When  she  was  seated  she  turned  and 
looked  at  King. 

"We  shall  ride  out  again  some  time,"  she  said, 
and  gave  him  her  hand. 

He  closed  his  big  hand  over  her  fingers  for  a 
moment  without  speaking.  When  he  was  about 
to  turn  away  she  clung  still  to  his  hand  and 
looked  at  him  very  earnestly. 

"Why  don't  you  sometimes  talk  a  little?"  she 
asked. 

The  abruptness  with  which  she  asked  the  ques- 
tion brought  the  slow  smile  back  to  King's  face. 

"I'm  not  good  at  talking,"  he  replied.  "Besides 
— I  like  to  hear  you  talk." 

King  had  not  ventured  before  in  their  short 
acquaintance  to  offer  a  compliment.  He  did  not 
mean  to  compliment  her  now.  He  was  speaking 
his  mind  simply,  directly,  sincerely. 

She  regarded  him  strangely  for  a  moment  in 
silence. 


66        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Sometimes,"  she  said  at  last,  "sometimes  I 
think—" 

She  paused  a  moment  and  then  withdrew  her 
hand  suddenly  and  wheeling  her  horse  about  went 
off  at  a  gallop  down  the  trail,  leaving  him  gazing 
after  her  in  wonderment. 

When  she  had  passed  out  of  sight  he  looked 
once  at  the  clouds  before  getting  into  the  saddle 
and  then,  getting  up,  he  gave  a  sharp  whistle  that 
brought  Sal  bounding  to  him,  and  set  off  along 
the  trail  that  led  to  town.  Behind  him  the  storm 
was  coming  up  rapidly. 

"It's  you  for  it  now,"  he  said  to  his  horse  as  he 
leaned  forward  and  stroked  the  warm  neck. 

Only  once  after  that  did  his  voice  break  the 
silence  of  the  long  ride.  The  first  drops  of  rain 
brought  him  suddenly  out  of  his  dreaming. 

"If  you  could  only  talk!"  he  said  to  himself, 
and  his  voice  was  full  of  impatience. 

But  King  Howden  was  no  talker. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

THE  town  was  in  a  state  of  excitement  that 
was  not  altogether  new.  In  fact,  the 
few  score  of  permanent  residents  in  the 
place  always  looked  to  Saturday  night  to  furnish 
some  little  change  from  the  humdrum  existence 
of  the  week.  There  is  nothing  very  stirring 
about  sitting  in  a  village — even  if  it  is  an  outpost 
of  civilization  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles 
from  anywhere — with  nothing  to  do  from  day  to 
day  except  to  greet  the  newcomers  who  arrive 
from  the  outside  to  begin  their  search  for  land. 
But  when  a  couple  of  red-coated  men  wearing 
blue  breeches  striped  on  either  side  with  gold, 
their  heads  covered  with  wide-brimmed  Stetsons, 
their  feet  stoutly  booted  and  spurred — when  two 
such  men  ride  in  from  over  the  Saskatchewan 
border  and  go  clanking  down  the  one  street  in 
the  place  a  certain  amount  of  shuffling  is  almost 
inevitable. 

Nor  was  the  flutter  of  excitement  due  to  any 
fear  that  the  "Mounties"  were  on  business  bent. 
Since  the  jurisdiction  of  the  famous  riders  of  the 

67 


68        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

plains  did  not  extend  any  farther  than  the  border, 
their  sudden  appearance  set  no  one  guessing  as 
to  who,  among  the  men  of  the  town,  was  being 
entertained,  a  criminal  unawares.  The  place 
had  served  as  a  week-end  retreat  for  the  men  of 
the  force  before,  and  all  such  occasions  had 
turned  out  more  or  less  eventful. 

No  previous  arrangement  had  been  made  that 
would  have  explained  the  sudden  influx  of  men 
who  came  into  town  from  all  over  the  district  to 
spend  the  week-end  together.  But  small  groups 
had  begun  to  arrive  before  the  sun  had  set — some 
of  the  settlers  had  come  in  during  the  day  from 
their  shacks  on  lonely  homesteads  and  made  a 
fair-sized  reception  committee  to  greet  the  later 
arrivals.  There  were  men  there  from  Rubble's 
survey  gang,  and  a  dozen  or  more  from  the  camp 
of  Keith  McBain. 

That  they  should  make  their  rendezvous  late 
in  the  evening  at  Mike  Cheney's  was  only 
natural.  There  was  MacMurray's  lodging  house, 
of  course,  that  stood  at  the  end  of  the  street  near 
the  river,  but  no  one  came  to  town  to  eat. 
Cheney's  place  stood  at  the  other  end  of  the  street 
— discreetly  apart.  And  those  who  came  and 
went  exercised  considerable  discretion  and  talked 
very  little  when  others  were  in  hearing. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        69 

Mike  Cheney  himself  treated  his  business 
very  philosophically.  In  a  man's  country  where 
men  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  life  none  too 
seriously,  there  must  needs  be  some  place  to  fore- 
gather— so  he  thought — on  the  days  when  the 
rain  drove  everyone  indoors,  and  on  nights  when 
the  rest  of  the  town  had  gone  to  bed.  Further- 
more, there  was  need  of  a  place  of  last  call  for 
the  men  on  their  way  to  the  railway  camps  or  the 
homesteads.  Besides,  what  were  men  to  do  in 
the  winter,  with  the  thermometer  dancing  back 
and  forth  between  thirty  and  forty  degrees  below 
zero,  if  they  had  to  depend  solely  upon  bad  tea 
and  weak  coffee?  Mike  declared,  and  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes  he  believed,  that  he  served  the 
community  in  proportion  as  he  was  successful  in 
dispensing  conviviality  among  its  members.  It 
didn't  occur  to  him  to  feel  abashed  that  a  few 
held  him  and  his  business  in  abhorrence.  Nor 
did  it  worry  him  that  he  was  conducting  his  busi- 
ness without  legal  sanction.  It  would  have 
caused  him  as  much  trouble  to  win  the  regard  of 
such  as  held  him  in  contempt  as  to  procure  an 
official  document  setting  the  seal  of  the  govern- 
ment's approval  on  his  business.  He  was  con- 
tent to  give  little  or  no  heed  to  either. 

And  so,  without  any  special  announcement, 


70        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  without  any  invitation,  the  visitors  took  their 
way,  when  it  was  late  enough,  to  the  large  room 
at  the  back  of  Mike  Cheney's  place,  where  they 
knew  they  would  be  made  heartily  welcome. 
And  to  tell  the  truth,  a  welcome  of  some  kind  was 
something  the  men  felt  the  need  of.  Rain  had 
begun  to  fall  quite  heavily — what  had  looked  like 
a  mere  thunder  shower  when  it  appeared  first  in 
the  north-east,  had  steadied  down  to  an  all-night 
rain.  And  certainly  MacMurray's  lodging  house 
offered  no  cheer.  No  one,  furthermore,  even 
cast  his  eyes  a  second  time  in  the  direction  of 
the  two  large  log  buildings  the  government  had 
erected  for  immigrants  without  shelter. 

The  room  at  the  back  of  Cheney's  place  was 
blue  with  smoke  that  rendered  almost  useless  the 
large  kerosene  lamp  that  hung  from  the  ceiling. 
In  one  corner  of  the  room  a  small  group  were  al- 
ready well  into  a  game  of  poker.  'Though  the 
stakes  were  of  necessity  low — for  what  can  men 
do  on  a  dollar  a  day? — the  interest  in  the  game 
was  sufficiently  high  to  attract  a  half  dozen  spec- 
tators who  watched  the  play  in  silence  and 
smoked  incessantly. 

In  another  corner  three  or  four  land-seekers 
were  exchanging  opinions  of  the  fine  points  of  the' 
law  governing  the  rights  of  the  "squatter,"  and- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        71 

the  rather  intricate  regulations  that  made  pro- 
vision for  what  is  known  as  "jumping"  a  claim. 

In  the  corner  farthest  from  the  door  where 
Mike  Cheney  stood  at  the  service  of  his  custom- 
ers, Big  Bill  McCartney  was  listening  to  what  one 
of  the  red-coated  visitors  had  to  say  about  the 
effect  of  solitude  on  a  man's  nerves.  The  sub- 
ject was  one  that  evidently  appealed  strongly  to 
one  of  MacDougalPs  men,  whose  mood  was 
rather  too  jovial  for  so  early  in  the  evening  and 
whose  literary  instincts  prompted  him  to  attempt 
the  metrical  flights  of  the  lines  beginning, 
"I  am  monarch  of  all  I  survey." 

McCartney  pushed  him  back  on  the  bench 
where  he  had  been  sitting  and  turned  to  hear 
something  that  Cheney  was  offering  to  the 
discussion. 

"There's  another  thing  about  this  country," 
said  Mike,  leaning  towards  McCartney  and  the 
red-coat.  "It's  a-gettin'  to  some  of  the  boys  in 
a  way  they  never  expected." 

He  paused  a  moment  to  wipe  up  a  little  water 
from  the  table  with  his  cloth.- 

"Now  there  was  old  Bob  Nason — he  was  be- 
fore your  time  here,  Bill.  He  was  one  of  the  first 
to  come  in  here  when  the  trail  was  opened  into 
the  valley.  There  was  a  good  fellow  for  you — 


72        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

an'  a  good  man  too.  No  better  ever  put  foot  on 
the  ground.  Saw  him  heave  a  barrel  of  salt  into 
the  back  end  of  his  wagon — just  like  that." 

Mike  used  appropriate  gestures  to  show  how 
easily  the  thing  had  been  done. 

"I'd  like  to  have  seen  you  an'  him  together, 
Bill,"  he  went  on,  and  a  broad  smile  accompanied 
his  remarks.  "Could  'a'  give  you  about  all  you 
could  handle,  Bill,  if  size  counts  for  anything. 
Anyhow — poor  old  Bob  came  in  here  one  night — 
it  was  a  night  like  this — only  there  was  a  regular 
howlin'  wind  and  the  rain  was  heavy.  I  hears 
a  poundin'  at  the  door — I  was  all  alone — an'  I 
gets  up  and  opens  it.  An'  there  stands  Old  Bob 
— feet  bare — shirt  gone — head  bare — pants  all  in 
rags — an'  mud  an'  water — it  was  awful !" 

He  paused  in  an  effort,  evidently,  to  call  the 
picture  more  vividly  to  mind. 

"An'  I  says,  'Bob,  what's  wrong?'  An'  then  I 
knew  right  away  what  it  was — from  the  grin  he 
gave  me.  But  I  says,  'Come  in  an'  get  some- 
thing* An'  poor  old  Bob  comes  in  an'  sits  down 
an'  starts  cryin'  like  a  baby.  An'  I  says,  'Bob, 
you're  lookin'  bad,'  but  he  wouldn't  talk.  I  sat 
with  him  all  night  an'  the  next  day  we  sent  him 
out  with  a  couple  of  boys  that  was  totin'  freight." 

For  a  moment  Mike  paused  while  he  turned  to 
pick  up  an  empty  glass  and  look  at  it. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        73 

"My  God,"  he  said,  looking  into  the  glass,  "to 
think  of  old  Bob  losin'  his  head  out  there — just 
for  the  sake  of  someone  to  talk  to.  I'll  never 
forget  it." 

"It'll  get  to  anyone  if  he's  only  left  alone  long 
enough,"  commented  the  policeman,  and  he  went 
on  to  tell  of  a  similar  case  that  had  come  under 
his  observation  in  the  West. 

"There's  just  one  thing  this  country  needs 
right  now,  Mike — an'  it  needs  it  bad,"  McCart- 
ney offered  by  way  of  supplementing  what  had 
just  been  said.  As  he  spoke  he  held  a  lighted 
match  in  his  hand  ready  to  apply  to  a  cigarette  he 
had  just  rolled. 

"You  mean — "  Cheney  waited. 

For  a  moment  McCartney  was  silent  while  he 
applied  the  match  to  his  cigarette. 

"I  mean—" 

The  door  opened  suddenly  and  a  girl  stepped 
into  the  room. 

" there's  the  answer,"  he  concluded. 

Several  of  the  men  glanced  up  as  the  door 
closed  and  the  girl  came  forward  to  where  Cheney 
was  standing  on  the  corner.  He  greeted  her 
quite  casually. 

"Hello,  Anne,"  he  said,  "you  sure  picked  a 
good  night  for  strollin'.  What's  the  idea?" 

For  a  moment  she  said  nothing  by  way  of  reply 


74       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

as  she  shook  the  rain  from  the  cloak  that  hung 
loosely  about  her  shoulders.  Then  she  looked 
round  the  room  at  the  men. 

"Nothin's  the  idea,"  she  remarked.  "It's  my 
night  off  and — well,  where  can  you  go  in  this 
place.  Slingin'  grub's  all  right — ten  hours  a  day 
— but  you  want  a  change,  don't  you?  Give  me 
a  smoke." 

The  request  was  addressed  to  McCartney,  who 
proceeded  at  once  to  roll  a  cigarette  while  she 
looked  on. 

"Nobody  in  this  town  let's  me  in  if  they  know 
I'm  comin',"  she  remarked  in  a  tone  that  carried 
not  the  slightest  trace  of  regret.  She  wished 
simply  to  record  the  fact  merely. 

And  a  fact  it  was,  for  Anne,  who  was  the  single 
waitress  at  the  lodging-house,  had  been  placed  in 
a  class  by  herself  in  the  town,  though  not  a  man 
in  it — or  woman  either — had  any  facts  upon 
which  to  base  their  prejudice. 

For  a  moment  only  during  the  process  of  roll- 
ing the  cigarette  the  eyes  of  McCartney  and  the 
girl  met.  No  one  in  the  room  saw  the  exchange 
of  glances  and  no  one  could  have  detected  the 
slightest  change  of  expression  in  either  face. 

McCartney  smiled  oddly  as  he  folded  the  edge 
of  the  cigarette  paper  into  place  and  tapped  the 
ends  lightly  against  his  hand. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        75 

"Shouldn't  have  any  trouble  findin'  a  little  en- 
tertainment in  this  bunch,"  he  observed. 

She  regarded  him  coldly.  "You  didn't  hear 
me  sayin'  anything  about  entertainment,  did 
you?"  she  returned. 

Without  making  any  immediate  reply  he  gave 
her  the  cigarette  and  offered  his  own  for  a  light. 

"Tell  you  what,  Anne,"  he  said  at  last,  "I've  a 
hunch  you've  brought  me  luck  to-night  an'  I'd 
like  to  sit  in  to  a  game.  I'd  like  to  know  if  the 
boys  here  play  the  kind  of  a  game  I'm  used  to. 
Come  on  over,  Anne,  an'  look  on." 

They  walked  over  to  the  corner  where  the  men 
were  playing  cards.  On  the  far  side  of  the  table 
was  Lush  Currie,  the  pile  of  chips  before  him  in- 
dicating that  he  had  held  a  few  good  hands  dur- 
ing the  evening.  As  McCartney  took  his  place 
at  the  table,  Currie  hesitated  for  a  moment  and 
acted  as  if  he  wanted  to  withdraw  from  the  game. 
McCartney  received  his  pile  of  chips  and  arranged 
them  in  three  little  piles  under  his  right  hand, 
then  scanned  the  faces  of  the  men  before  him. 

For  men  who  take  life  as  it  comes,  one  day  at 
a  time  and  little  thought  of  the  morrow,  poker  is 
the  game  of  games.  It  matters  little  whether  it 
is  played  in  the  Far  North  where  men  take  for- 
tunes from  the  beds  of  frozen  creeks,  or  on  the 
quieter  and  less  rugged  frontiers  where  they  build 


76        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

the  nation's  highways  at  a  dollar  a  day  and  three 
square  meals  always  in  sight.  In  one  case  the 
stakes  are  for  thousands,  with  a  jack-pot  some- 
times growing  into  six  figures.  In  the  other  the 
limits  are  set  by  the  meagre  earnings  of  a  season 
of  some  six  months  or  so  between  the  spring  and 
the  freeze-up.  One  man  risks  a  fortune  he  may 
retrieve  in  a  single  month  of  good  luck  with  his 
shovel  and  pan.  The  other  lays  a  wager  that 
will  take  him  a  whole  season  to  pay  if  he  comes 
off  loser.  But  in  any  case,  whatever  the  circum- 
stances, the  game  is  the  same,  and  the  men  are 
the  same — playing  the  game  for  the  game's  sake 
and  despising  nothing  so  much  as  a  poor  loser — 
unless  it  be  a  crooked  winner. 

For  the  first  half  hour  or  so  the  game  that 
McCartney  had  just  taken  a  hand  in  went  along 
very  quietly — like  the  first  rounds  of  a  match 
with  the  boxers  sparring  for  an  opening.  The 
cards  having  been  cut,  the  deal  fell  to  the  man  on 
McCartney's  left.  The  round  found  them  all 
without  openers  and  the  pack  was  dealt  again. 
This  time  Lush  Currie  opened  the  game  and  the 
others  stayed. 

"Cards  ?"  said  the  dealer,  who  was  Dan  Martin, 
of  Rubble's  gang. 

He  came  to  Currie  and  looked  at  him  question- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        77 

"This  is  good  enough  for  me,"  replied  Currie 
and  left  his  cards  where  he  had  put  them  face 
downwards  on  the  table  before  him. 

When  Martin  came  to  McCartney  the  latter 
drew  three  cards,  glanced  at  them  and  laying 
them  down  smiled  across  the  table  at  Anne. 
Currie  made  a  small  bet  which  was  raised  by  the 
next  man.  Then  they  waited  for  McCartney. 
He  picked  up  his  cards,  glanced  at  them  again — 
and  tossed  them  to  one  side.  Dan  Martin 
seemed  about  to  raise  the  bet,  but  on  second 
thought  decided  to  let  it  stand.  The  next  man 
followed  McCartney's  example  and  with  three 
men  in  the  game  Currie  called  and  won  with 
three  queens. 

"Pretty  easy  pickin',  Currie,"  he  said. 

"Why  didn't  you  stay,  then?"  asked  Martin. 
"I  didn't  tell  you  to  get  out." 

"I  might  'a*  stayed  at  that,"  McCartney 
replied. 

The  next  two  games  were  won  on  a  pair  of  aces 
and  two  pairs,  respectively.  The  cards  then  went 
to  the  man  on  McCartney's  left  and  he  dealt. 
McCartney  picked  up  his  cards  one  by  one  as 
they  came  to  him  and  arranged  them  in  his  hand. 

"Comin'  like  trained  pigs !"  he  said.  "What'd 
I  tell  you,  Anne?  You're  my  luck — just  see  this 
thing  through  an'  I'll  split  the  loot." 


78        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

There  was  nothing  contagious  in  his  pleasant- 
ries. Though  he  appeared  in  high  spirits,  his 
hilarity  was  so  obviously  artificial  that  no  one 
paid  any  particular  attention  to  him — except,  per- 
haps, Lush  Currie,  who  glanced  back  at  Anne 
with  his  cards  still  in  his  hand.  Then,  as  if  a 
thought  suddenly  struck  him,  he  closed  his  hands 
quickly  over  his  cards  and  laid  them  down. 

The  girl,  on  her  part,  did  not  even  so  much  as 
look  up — either  at  McCartney  or  at  Currie.  She 
appeared  too  busy  with  her  own  thoughts  and 
was  unaware  of  the  suspicions  that  were  being 
entertained  regarding  her. 

When  the  round  was  completed  McCartney 
drew  the  chips  towards  him  and  reached  for  the 
deck — he  had  won  on  a  show-down  with  three 
fives  and  a  pair  of  jacks.  It  was  his  deal. 

"Now  then,  you're  comin'  to  me,  see?"  he  cried 
as  he  slipped  the  cards  one  by  one  from  the  pack 
and  slid  them  to  the  players.  "That  makes  first 
blood — an'  the  night's  young !" 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  silence  while  the 
players  looked  at  their  cards.  This  time  Currie 
opened  high  and  the  others  stayed.  They  took 
their  draws  and  settled  down.  No  one  bet  until 
it  came  round  to  McCartney. 

"I'll  just  kick  'er  along  a  little  bit,"  he  said, 
and  put  in  his  chips. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        79 

Two  players  threw  their  cards  away,  leaving 
Currie,  McCartney  and  two  others  in  the  game. 
It  was  Currie's  turn  to  bet.  He  picked  up  one 
card  that  had  been  dealt  to  him  in  the  draw  and 
was  about  to  look  at  it.  As  he  did  so  he  hesitated 
and  looked  across  the  table.  McCartney's  eyes 
were  on  Anne.  Something  in  the  latter's  face 
made  Currie  postpone  his  bet  for  a  moment. 

"Anne,"  he  said,  glancing  over  his  shoulder, 
"you're  sittin'  too  close  to  me.  It  ain't  lucky — 
an'  I  don't  like  it." 

His  voice  betrayed  excitement  and  the  girl  was 
not  slow  to  catch  the  implication. 

"Say,  Lush  Currie — look  here,",  she  protested, 
"what  are  you  tryin'  to  tell  me?" 

"Nothin'  only  what  I  said,"  Currie  replied. 
"Don't  sit  behind  me  in  this  game." 

His  voice  was  shaking  as  he  spoke  and  he 
fingered  his  cards  nervously. 

"Sit  round  here,  Anne,"  said  McCartney,  his 
voice  full  of  sarcasm.  "He's  jealous — he  doesn't 
like  you  lookin'  at  me  so  often." 

McCartney's  efforts  to  make  a  joke  of  the 
whole  affair  were  pathetically  inadequate,  and 
served  only  to  heighten  Currie's  suspicion.  But 
the  girl  stood  up  and  faced  McCartney  with  a 
look  that  was  as  cold  as  it  was  direct. 

"Say,  Bill  McCartney,"   she  remarked  in  a 


80        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

voice  that  was  cutting  in  its  deliberateness,  "does 
Lush  Currie  think  I'm  tippin'  you  off  to  his  hand  ? 
Well,  listen  to  me.  I've  been  lookin'  a  whole  long 
time  for  the  kind  of  man  I'd  do  that  for  an' — you 
• — ain't — him." 

McCartney's  expression  changed  suddenly. 

"What  the  hell  are  you  anyhow?"  he  asked, 
with  a  sneer,  and  turned  to  Currie.  "Your  bet, 
Currie." 

For  answer  Currie  threw  his  cards  into  the 
centre  of  the  table  and  got  up  from  his  chair. 

"This  game  can  go  on  without  me,"  he  said, 
and  he  moved  his  chair  back  and  walked  away 
from  the  group. 

A  couple  of  the  players  put  out  restraining 
hands  and  tried  to  persuade  him  to  go  on  with 
the  game.  Cheney  came  forward  and  invited 
him  to  take  a  drink,  but  Currie  was  obstinate. 

"I  don't  sit  in  to  no  game  with  a " 

The  epithet  he  used  brought  McCartney  to  his 
feet.  He  pushed  his  chair  to  one  side  with  his 
foot  and  stepped  towards  Currie. 

"You  ain't  big  enough  to  say  that  to  me,"  he 
said,  tossing  his  cigarette  to  one  side. 

The  men  showed  no  desire  to  interfere.  The 
history  of  Currie's  previous  encounter  had  gone 
the  rounds  and  left  them  all  hoping  that  Currie 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        81 

might  some  day  have  an  opportunity  to  meet  his 
man  fairly  and  have  it  out.  They  had  little  re- 
spect for  Currie,  whose  untimely  accusations 
against  Anne  were,  they  felt  sure,  not  only  out 
of  place  but  without  foundation.  The  girl's  re- 
buff had  rung  true  and  no  one  doubted  her — 
though  they  were  convinced  that  Bill  McCartney 
would  have  used  any  advantage,  had  it  been 
offered  to  him. 

They  stood  back  to  give  room  to  the  two  men 
who  occupied  a  space  near  the  centre  of  the  floor. 
They  liked  a  fight  and  they  wanted  to  see  the 
much-talked-of  foreman  in  action. 

McCartney  bore  down  steadily  on  Currie,  who 
relied  upon  his  quick,  cat-like  movements  as  his 
sole  means  of  defending  himself  against  the 
towering  strength  of  his  opponent.  But  wherever 
Currie  went  McCartney  followed  relentlessly, 
taking  the  short  quick  jabs  of  his  antagonist  with- 
out showing  the  slightest  uneasiness.  He  dis- 
played the  full  confidence  of  one  who  knows  that 
if  he  can  get  his  man  into  a  corner  he  can  end  the 
fight  in  a  few  seconds.  But  that  was  precisely 
what  Currie  avoided.  He  danced  about  McCart- 
ney and  landed  light  blows  almost  at  will. 
Finally  the  big  fellow  began  to  show  signs  of  ugly 
temper  and  quickened  his  advance  in  an  effort  to 


82        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

get  within  fair  striking  distance.  As  he  came 
close  Currie  crouched  near  the  door  and  then 
leaped  and  sent  his  foot  out  in  a  vicious  kick  that 
barely  missed  McCartney's  chin.  As  it  was,  the 
foreman  took  the  full  force  of  the  blow  on  his 
neck  and  for  a  few  seconds  staggered  backwards, 
shaking  his  head  savagely  and  blinking  his  eyes 
as  if  to  clear  his  sight.  Had  Currie  followed  up 
his  advantage  at  once  the  affair  might  have  been 
ended  right  there.  But  while  he  hesitated  Mc- 
Cartney recovered  sufficiently  to  size  up  the 
situation  afresh. 

He  stood  for  a  few  moments  looking  at  Currie, 
his  face  twisted  into  a  smile.  Those  who 
saw  that  smile  began  to  feel  pity  for  the  smaller 
man  who  had  put  up  a  good  fight  and  a  plucky 
one.  There  was  a  look  in  Currie's  face  too,  that 
seemed  to  reveal  for  the  first  time  his  failing  con- 
fidence in  the  outcome. 

"It's  going  to  be  stiff  travellin'  for  Lush  from 
now  on,"  murmured  one  of  the  men  to  Cheney  in 
a  voice  that  was  barely  audible. 

McCartney,  who  was  near  enough  to  the 
speaker  to  overhear  the  remark,  seemed  about  to 
speak,  but  he  shut  his  teeth  hard  and  went  to- 
wards Currie  crouching  in  an  attitude  of  cautious 
defence.  His  face  was  the  face  of  an  animal. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        83 

Suddenly  Cheney  pushed  his  way  forward,  a 
look  of  consternation  on  his  face  as  he  watched 
Currie  vainly  shifting  his  position  in  a  last  effort 
to  get  out  of  the  way  and  gain  the  open  space  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"Ain't  someone  goin'  to  stop  this  before  it's 
gone  too  far?"  he  muttered  to  one  of  the  men. 

No  one  made  reply. 

There  was  a  quick,  sharp  cry  as  Anne  came  out 
of  the  semi-darkness  of  one  corner  and  rushed 
forward  in  a  frantic  effort  to  get  between  the  two 
men. 

"Stop — for  God's  sake!  Oh,  you  damned 
fools !"  she  cried,  struggling  vainly  to  break  the 
grip  of  a  couple  of  men  who  held  her  back.  Then 
she  was  pushed  gently  into  her  place  in  the  cor- 
ner, where  she  sat  down  on  the  bench  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands. 

Currie  was  now  in  a  narrow  space  between  the 
door  and  the  table  at  which  only  a  few  minutes 
before  they  had  been  playing  poker.  Twice  he 
made  a  quick  move  to  get  out,  and  twice  McCart- 
ney caught  him  before  he  was  well  started  and 
drove  him  back.  In  another  moment  it  would 
all  be  over. 

Then  something  happened  which  no  one  among 
the  onlookers  seemed  altogether  for  the  moment 


84        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

to  understand.  Currie  crouched  low  as  if  pre- 
paring for  another  spring — but  everyone  knew  it 
would  be  a  hopeless  attempt.  Suddenly  he 
straightened  up — his  hand  came  quickly  from  be- 
hind him  and  shot  towards  McCartney — but  not 
for  a  blow. 

"No — no,  sir,"  said  Currie,  his  breath  coming 
short  and  labored,  "no — you  can't — you  can't 
get  me — like  that.  Get  back — I'll  get  you — sure 
as  God — I'll  bore  you.  Now — get  back." 

McCartney  sprang  back  and  looked  at  Currie 
who  had  covered  him.  He  knew — they  all  knew 
— that  Lush  Currie  was  fool  enough  to  shoot  if 
it  came  to  a  show-down.  And  no  man  can  trust 
a  gun  in  the  hands  of  a  fool.  The  big  foreman 
turned  in  mute  appeal  to  one  of  the  mounted 
policemen  who  stood  near. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened  and  King  Howden 
stepped  into  the  room,  took  off  his  hat,  shook 
the  rain  from  it,  and  then  looked  around  him. 
His  mind,  usually  slow  at  taking  in  a  situa- 
tion, seemed  to  react  quickly  to  what  he  saw 
on  this  occasion.  He  took  a  step  farther  down 
the  room  and  rubbed  his  eyes  quickly  with  one 
hand  as  if  the  light  bothered  him.  Then  he 
looked  again  at  the  men  and  turned  to  Currie, 
who  was  crouching  near  him.  Something  like  a 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        85 

smile  played  upon  his  face  as  he  stepped  to  Currie 
and  extended  his  hand. 

"You  ain't  clear  on  some  things,  I  guess,"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  that  was  unusually  stern  and 
direct.  "This  ain't  a  gunning  country." 

Without  another  word  he  stepped  deliberately 
to  where  Currie  stood,  and  taking  the  gun  from 
him,  opened  it  and  having  emptied  it  into  his 
hand,  returned  it.  Turning  round,  his  eyes  fell 
upon  Anne,  who  had  got  up  again  and  was  com- 
ing forward. 

"Anne,"  he  said,  "you  better  be  getting  along 
home." 

There  was  a  note  in  his  voice  that  the  girl  had 
never  heard  before.  This  man  was  not  the  King 
Howden  she  had  talked  to  often  during  the  sum- 
mer. She  drew  her  cloak  about  her  shoulders 
and  went  out. 

Then  King  looked  at  Bill  McCartney.  He 
was  standing  back  against  the  table  behind  which 
Mike  Cheney  had  stood  earlier  in  the  evening 
when  there  had  been  customers  to  serve.  King 
had  been  cool  and  deliberate — now  he  felt  the  old 
demon  rising  in  him  and  he  struggled  to  gain  con- 
trol of  himself.  He  realized  now  that  he  hated 
this  man,  though  he  could  scarcely  have  told  why. 
With  a  supreme  effort  he  mastered  his  rising 


86        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

temper  and  stood  regarding  McCartney  in 
silence.  The  latter,  however,  realizing  that 
Currie  was  now  at  his  mercy,  and  mastered  by  an 
uncontrollable  desire  to  end  the  affair  to  his 
advantage,  stepped  deliberately  in  the  direction 
of  Currie  who  was  cowering  near  the  door. 

"Stand  back!"  he  roared,  and  the  words  were 
meant  more  for  King  than  for  the  two  or  three 
men  who  made  weak  attempts  to  restrain  him. 

King,  recognizing  that  McCartney  was  speak- 
ing to  him,  stepped  deliberately  between  the  two 


men. 
tt 


You'd  better  leave,"  he  said,  glancing  behind 
him,  and  even  as  he  spoke  Currie  opened  the 
door  and  slipped  out. 

King  was  about  to  follow  but  turned  as 
McCartney's  voice  came  to  him,  muttering  some- 
thing he  only  half  heard. 

"You're  not  talking  to  me,  are  you?"  he  said. 

McCartney  bellowed  his  reply:  "I'm  talkin' 
to  you,  you  son  of  a  dog !" 

King  moved  slowly  towards  McCartney.  He 
faced  the  big  foreman  for  a  moment,  his  arms 
rigid  at  his  sides.  Suddenly  McCartney's  hand 
shot  out  and  King  stepped  back  just  in  time  to 
avoid  the  full  force  of  a  blow  that,  as  it  was, 
glanced  from  his  cheek.  Slowly  King's  two 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        87 

hands  came  up  and  closed  in  a  convulsive  grip. 
While  the  men  waited  breathlessly  he  stood  trem- 
bling from  the  struggle  that  was  going  on  within 
him — then  he  wheeled  quickly  and  going  to  the 
door,  opened  it,  and  went  out. 

In  the  darkness,  King,  without  any  thought 
of  picking  his  way  through  the  mud  and  water, 
hurried  round  the  corner  of  Cheney's  place  and 
started  down  the  roadway  to  where  his  horse 
stood  tethered  in  front  of  old  man  Hurley's  office. 
Only  once  did  he  pause.  Just  as  he  stepped  into 
the  street  a  great  burst  of  loud  laughter  came  to 
him  from  behind  the  door  he  had  just  closed. 
He  knew  what  it  meant  and  for  a  moment  his 
grip  upon  himself  weakened.  He  wanted  to  go 
back — he  wanted  to  fight.  For  a  moment  he 
hesitated.  Then  his  mind  was  clear  again  and 
he  went  on.  All  the  way  down  the  street,  how- 
ever, he  could  not  help  wondering  how  long  he 
would  have  to  wait. 

Then  he  got  up  into  the  saddle  and  went  off 
along  the  muddy  trail  that  led  west  about  half  a 
mile  to  where  his  little  shack  stood  upon  a  low 
ridge  that  ran  in  upon  his  land. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

WHEN  King  Howden  awoke  next  morning 
it  was  with  a  feeling  that  he  was  begin- 
ning life  in  a  new  world.  The  feeling 
was  deepened  when  he  looked  out  through  the 
small  window  and  saw  the  pools  of  water  left 
by  the  night's  rain  glistening  in  the  bright  sun- 
light. He  had  not  slept  well — during  the  earlier 
part  of  the  night  he  had  not  slept  at  all.  There 
had  been  much  to  think  about,  much  that  was 
perplexing  and  disquieting.  And  yet,  as  he 
looked  from  his  window  at  the  new  morning  and 
saw  half  a  mile  away  the  huts  and  white  tents  of 
The  Town  flooded  with  sunlight,  he  was  con- 
scious not  so  much  of  the  disappointments  that 
the  week  had  brought  him,  as  he  was  of  the  new 
determination,  the  high  resolve  with  which  he 
looked  into  the  future. 

When  his  mind  went  back  to  his  brother — as  it 
did  frequently — the  memory  struck  pain  to  his 
heart,  but  he  was  not  melancholy.  The  lone- 
liness he  felt  caused  him  to  straighten  his  should- 
ers and  prepare  himself  to  square  away  before  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        89 

task  that  lay  before  him.  What  that  task  was  he 
could  only  vaguely  define  as  yet.  But  he  was 
beginning  to  understand  that  there  was  a  man's 
work  here — and  a  big  man's  work  it  was — await- 
ing the  coming  of  someone  to  do  it.  The  fact  had 
dawned  upon  him  slowly,  but  the  first  glimmer- 
ings of  light  were  visible  just  the  same.  He  was 
coming  to  see  that  a  new  country,  even  a  small, 
half-enclosed  valley-district  such  as  this  one, 
would  become  what  the  vital  energies  of  its  men 
made  it.  He  had  not  as  yet  had  any  clear  vision 
of  what  the  country  would  be  in  years  to  come, 
when  little  towns  and  villages  would  spring  up 
here  and  there  along  the  railway,  when  hundreds 
of  men  and  women  and  their  families  would  rush 
in,  hopeful  that  they  might  build  again — and 
strongly  build — though  their  old  lives  in  other 
lands  had  crumbled  into  ruins.  He  had  no  con- 
crete, complete  conception  of  what  lay  ahead. 
He  had  nothing  but  the  vague  hopes,  the  uncer- 
tain dreams,  the  fleeting  fancies  that  had  come  to 
him  often  during  the  past  summer — only  now 
they  were  more  vivid. 

To  the  events  of  the  night  before  he  gave  little 
or  no  thought— at  least,  to  the  events  that  had 
brought  him  into  conflict  with  Bill  McCartney. 
In  fact  in  his  new  mood  he  wondered  how  he 


90        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

could  have  come  so  near  to  losing  his  temper 
over  an  affair  that  didn't  amount  to  anything 
after  all.  He  had  been  in  Cheney's  before,  but 
not  often.  As  he  thought  it  over  he  quietly  (De- 
termined that  the  less  he  had  to  do  with  Cheney 
the  better.  His  determination  was  stiffened  as 
he  remembered  the  group  of  men  he  had  seen 
there  the  night  before.  It  startled  him  to  think 
how  near  they  had  come  to  witnessing  what 
might  easily  have  been  a  tragedy,  because  one  of 
them  was  bent  upon  settling  a  dispute  in  his  own 
ill-chosen  way ;  and  out  of  all  his  thinking  about 
these  things  there  grew  up  within  him  the  clear 
understanding  that  only  upon  order  and  good 
judgment  could  men  hope  to  build  for  the  future 
in  a  new  community. 

In  all  his  wondering  about  these  things — and 
much  of  it  was  very  vague  wondering — there  was 
only  one  element  of  a  personal  kind.  He  con- 
fessed to  himself  now  for  the  first  time  that 
Cherry  McBain  was  as  nearly  indispensable  to 
him  as  anyone  in  his  life  had  ever  been.  And 
now  with  the  birth  of  a  new  hope  he  did  what  any 
man  would  have  done  under  the  circumstances — 
he  threw  his  whole  soul  into  a  resolve  that  in  the 
game  of  life  he  was  playing  now,  the  prize  was 
the  heart  of  Cherry  McBain.  Perhaps  it  was 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        91 

this  thought  that  helped  to  make  the  world  a 
good  place  for  him  to  live  in,  and  the  future  some- 
thing to  set  store  by. 

It  was  something  of  this  nature  at  any  rate 
that  he  confided  to  his  sole  companion  in  the 
shack,  old  mongrel  Sal,  who  had  stood  for  some 
time  looking  up  into  his  face,  her  shaggy  body 
performing  all  kinds  of  contortions  in  vain  at- 
tempts to  attract  her  master's  attention.  Sud- 
denly he  sat  down  on  the  side  of  his  bed  and 
grasping  her  two  ears  with  his  hands  drew  her 
head  between  his  knees  and  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"Sal,  you  old  cuss,  you,"  he  said,  shaking  her 
head,  "there's  something  I'm  going  to  tell  you." 

He  put  his  face  down  until  his  cheek  was  rest- 
ing against  the  side  of  her  head  and  murmured 
something  very  quietly.  Then  he  straightened 
up  and  with  his  two  hands  closed  the  dog's  mouth, 
holding  it  shut  a  moment  with  one  hand  round 
her  muzzle. 

Something  in  the  mood  that  had  come  upon 
King  caused  him  to  look  critically  round  the 
single  room  that  made  up  the  interior  of  his 
shack.  One  golden  shaft  of  sunlight  fell  from 
the  small  window  to  the  floor,  but  the  light  it  gave 
revealed  a  condition  that,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  he  had  never  been  more  than  vaguely  con- 


92        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

scious  of  before.  The  place  was  indescribably 
dirty.  His  few  days'  absence  from  the  place  had 
given  it  a  heavy,  musty  smell  that  was  anything 
but  pleasant.  A  litter  of  qdd  bits  of  clothing  and 
old  papers  lay  where  he  had  thrown  them  prob- 
ably weeks  before.  The  heavy  grey  blankets  on 
the  bunk  which  he  had  built  into  one  corner  of 
the  shack  had  not  been  washed  for  months — they 
had  not  even  been  spread  out  to  the  sun.  The 
table  that  stood  near  the  window  was  covered 
with  unwashed  tin  plates  and  cups,  dirty  knives, 
forks  and  spoons.  A  bit  of  bread,  dried  hard, 
and  some  butter  that  had  turned  to  grease  in  the 
sun's  rays  lay  where  he  had  left  them  when  he 
went  out  on  his  last  trip.  Grey  ashes  covered 
the  floor  beside  the  rusted  sheet-iron  stove. 

King  had  once  regarded  this  as  belonging 
essentially  to  the  only  place  he  knew  as  home. 
It  had  been  perfectly  natural,  and  far  from  re- 
volting. It  had  been  even  cosy.  But  in  his  pre- 
sent mood  he  found  it  disquieting.  He  could  not 
help  wondering  to  himself  how  Cherry  McBain's 
senses  would  react,  if  she  were  suddenly  ushered 
into  the  place. 

He  sprang  up  and  threw  open  the  door.  The 
fresh  Sunday  morning  air  swept  in  with  its  frag- 
rance borne  from  the  balm-o'-gileads  that  stood 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        93 

near  his  door  shaking  their  shining  leaves  in  the 
bright  sunlight.  As  he  drew  himself  up  and 
lifted  his  chest  his  huge  frame  almost  filled  the 
doorway.  With  a  word  to  Sal  he  went  out  and 
made  his  way  leisurely  towards  the  roughly-made 
stable  that  stood  among  the  willows  skirting  the 
ridge.  The  desire  to  put  his  shack  into  a  present- 
able condition  was  superseded  by  a  yearning  to 
roam  lazily  about  the  place  for  a  while  and  in- 
dulge his  fancies  for  the  future.  It  was  a  day  to 
be  free  and  forgetful  of  duties,  and  after  the 
crowded  week  he  felt  the  need  of  a  rest.  The 
general  clean-up  which  he  promised  himself  he 
would  give  to  his  shack  could  wait — as  it  had 
waited  during  long  months  before  he  became  con- 
scious of  any  such  need.  In  the  meantime  he 
would  feed  his  horse  and  then  stroll  down  to  the 
town  for  some  provisions. 

When  he  returned  to  the  shack  he  made  him- 
self a  breakfast  of  oatmeal  and  fried  bacon.  The 
meal  was  frugal  but  sufficient  to  supply  his  needs 
for  the  time  being,  and  he  decided  to  postpone  his 
jaunt  to  town  until  late  in  the  day.  He  wanted 
to  take  a  walk  over  his  land  and  think  over  his 
plans  for  the  coming  year. 

King  had  a  real  affection  for  the  place  he  had 
chosen.  He  had  filed  his  claim  long  before  there 


94        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

was  any  competition  in  the  field  and  had  secured 
what  he  considered  a  choice  location  within  easy 
distance  of  wood  and  water.  The  soil  was  very 
rich,  and  the  ridge  with  its  clumps  of  poplars 
offered  an  excellent  spot  for  building.  From  in 
front  of  his  shack  he  could  see  not  only  The 
Town,  but  beyond  it  to  the  blue  hills  rising  to  the 
east  and  extending  southward  in  a  half  circle 
forming  one  rim  of  the  valley.  Between  these 
two  ranges  lay  a  wide  plain  spread  out  under  the 
blue  sky,  fertile,  well  watered  and  pleasantly 
wooded.  It  was  not  the  kind  of  country  King 
had  been  accustomed  to  hearing  called  "a  man's 
land"  in  the  rugged  interior  of  British  Columbia, 
where  he  had  spent  eight  of  the  ten  years  since 
he  had  come  west.  It  was  quieter — milder — 
softer,  maybe — and  of  coloring  less  vivid.  And 
yet  it  was  a  man's  country,  too,  a  country  with  a 
challenge  for  anyone  who  cared  to  hear  it. 

It  was  well  on  in  the  afternoon  when  King  got 
back  from  his  tramp  over  his  land.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  sat  down  upon  the  door-step  and 
rested  before  starting  for  The  Town  to  get  some- 
thing to  eat.  Sal  lay  down  near  him,  panting 
lazily  in  the  shade  of  the  poplars.  When  he  was 
about  to  go  the  dog  gave  a  sharp  little  bark  and 
stood  ^up  quickly  with  her  ears  pointed  in  the 
direction  of  the  ridge-trail  leading  to  town. 


King  got  up  and  looked  down  the  trail. 

Soon  there  emerged  from  behind  the  clump  of 
willows  the  figure  of  a  man  coming  towards  him. 
King  sat  down  again  and  waited.  In  a  few 
moments  he  recognized  the  figure  as  that  of  Lush 
Currie.  As  the  latter  approached  him  King  re- 
garded him  with  a  questioning  air.  There  was 
something  in  Currie's  face  that  he  could  not  quite 
understand.  He  offered  to  bring  out  a  bench  for 
a  seat,  but  Lush  protested  quite  sincerely  and  sat 
down  on  the  grass  under  the  poplars.  When 
Currie  had  rolled  himself  a  fresh  cigarette  and 
lighted  it  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  King  and  looked  at 
him  squarely  for  the  first  time. 

"I'm  gettin'  out,"  he  said  abruptly. 

King  did  not  reply  at  first,  but  Currie's  silence 
prompted  him  to  ask  what  he  meant. 

"Just  that,"  said  Currie.  "I'm  goin'  outside 
to-morrow — an'  I'll  not  be  back." 

It  was  no  unusual  thing  for  a  member  of  a 
railway  construction  gang  to  pack  up  his  be- 
longings and  leave  for  the  outside.  King  was 
at  a  loss  to  know  the  exact  significance  of  Currie's 
announcement. 

"Before.  I  went  I  wanted  to  see  you,"  he  con- 
tinued, "an'  to  tell  you  I'm  right  sorry  about  last 
night." 

There  was  something  so  direct  and  sincere  in 


96        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

the  way  Currie  expressed  himself  that  King  felt 
his  heart  warming  towards  the  man  in  spite  of 
his  recollections  from  the  night  before. 

"An'  that's  the  reason  I'm  gettin'  out,"  he  said 
a  little  stiffly.  "Hpwden,  you  came  in  on  a  bad 
mess  last  night — just  about  as  bad  as  it  could  'a* 
been.  If  it  hadn't  'a'  been  for  you  I'd  'a'  been 
lookin'  for  a  place  to  hide  to-day — waitin'  for 
night  to  come  on  so  I  could  walk  around  without 
bein'  scared." 

King  moved  a  little  impatiently.  He  didn't 
wish  to  have  his  interference  on  Currie's  behalf 
made  so  much  of. 

"For  three  years  I've  been  with  Old  Silent's 
outfit,"  Currie  went  on.  "You  know  what  it 
means  for  a  man  to  hitch  up  with  his  gang.  You 
stay — that's  all  there  is  to  it.  I  never  did  go 
lookin'  for  trouble.  An'  I  never  went  gunnin' 
before.  I  got  that  thing  when  I  left  home  back 
east — I  thought  I'd  mebbe  need  it.  I  never  had 
trouble  with  Old  Silent — nor  with  any  of  his  men. 
There  was  a  few  fights — mostly  with  boys  from 
other  camps — but  they  were  all  on  the  square. 
This  man  McCartney  was  the  first  man  who  ever 
tried  anything  like  that.  He's  a  four-flusher — 
I  know  that — an'  I  could  a'  trimmed  him,  too — 
only  now — I  can't.  There  won't  be  another 
chance  for  me." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        97 

He  paused  for  a  moment  while  he  drew  medi- 
tatively at  his  cigarette. 

"I  lost  my  head — an'  I  drew  on  him.  There 
wasn't  room  there  to  fight — an'  it  was  his  size 
that  counted.  Now  I'm  not  going  back.  I 
couldn't  stay  round  camp  with  him  on  the  job. 
An',  besides — I  ain't  got  the  nerve  any  more — 
I'd  be  thinkin'  all  the  time  of  last  night." 

When  he  ceased  talking  King  asked  him  why 
he  couldn't  stay  in  the  valley  and  go  on  the  land. 

"No,  Howden,"  he  replied,  "that's  not  my  line. 
I'm  goin'  west.  There's  more  railroadin'  out 
there  an'  the  world's  big  enough  for  two  of  us. 
I'll  go  west  an'  look  round  a  bit.  But  there's  one 
thing  I  want  you  to  remember,  Howden."  He 
got  up  as  he  spoke  and  King  closed  the  door  and 
prepared  to  start  down  the  trail.  "Bill  McCart- 
ney's fight  is  over  with  me — him  an*  me  don't 
come  together  again  here — but  you  an'  him  will, 
an'  don't  forget  it.  He's  a  dirty  dog — he'll  bite 
when  you're  not  lookin' — but  he's  not  afraid  to 
bite  just  the  same.  What's  more — he'll  go  on 
bitin'  unless  he  gets  whipped.  Then  he'll  stop — 
he'll  get  out  then  just  like  me." 

The  two  men  went  off  together  down  the  trail, 
and  as  King  walked  along  in  silence  he  felt  the 
optimism  and  the  buoyancy  that  had  filled  him 
during  the  earlier  part  of  the  day  struggling 


98        THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

against  the  melancholy  that  had  haunted  him 
strangely  for  months.  It  was  not  his  nature  to 
change  his  mood  quickly,  but  the  warning  that 
Currie  had  sounded  brought  upon  him  the  full 
consciousness  that  he  had  an  enemy  who  would 
never  be  quiet  until  he  himself  had  brought  him 
to  subjection  by  nothing  but  brute  strength.  He 
was  not  afraid,  but  he  had  hoped  that  in  the  days 
to  come  he  would  only  have  to  take  up  the 
struggle  that  men  wage  against  nature  in  their 
efforts  to  make  a  living.  The  thought  of  having 
to  fight  it  out  with  Bill  McCartney  before  he 
could  have  any  peace  weighed  upon  him  in  a  way 
that  made  him  feel  impatient  with  himself.  He 
made  up  his  mind,  however,  that  he  would  never 
fight  until  the  occasion  arose  that  demanded  it — 
then  he  would  see  it  through  to  the  bitter  end. 
The  thought  steadied  him  as  he  walked  along  the 
trail,  and  his  voice  became  more  cheerful  as  he 
chatted  with  Currie. 

In  the  lodging  house  old  man  Rubble  was  dis- 
cussing the  affair  of  the  night  before  with  a  half 
dozen  of  the  men  of  his  own  party.  Word  had 
gone  round  that  Lush  Currie  had  decided  to 
leave,  and  it  was  generally  agreed  that  he  was 
doing  the  only  thing  reasonable  under  the  cir- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN        99 

cumstances.  The  real  point  of  interest  was  the 
relationship  between  King  Howden  and  Bill 
McCartney.  As  the  latter,  with  a  number  of 
Keith  McBain's  men  had  just  left  for  camp,  there 
was  no  reason  for  postponing  a  discussion  that 
had  been  held  up  during  the  day,  merely  because 
the  presence  of  Bill  McCartney  made  any  refer- 
ence to  the  question  a  little  difficult.  Now  that 
McCartney  had  gone,  the  question  was  raised  at 
once  and  the  discussion  had  become  very  spirited. 
One  thing  puzzled  them  all.  Why  had  King 
Howden  not  taken  the  challenge  when  it  was 
given  to  him  and  finished  the  fight  right  there? 
The  challenge  had  certainly  been  offensive 
enough  to  have  justified  any  man's  accepting  it  at 
once.  And  King  would  never  again  get  an  op- 
portunity to  fight  McCartney  when  the  latter  was 
just  finishing  one  struggle.  The  advantage  had 
lain  all  with  King,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  the  men 
were  not  a  little  disappointed  that  he  had  failed 
to  go  in  when  the  conditions  were  so  much  in  his 
favor.  It  was  something  more  to  increase  the 
wondering  they  had  already  felt  concerning  King 
Howden. 

"There's  only  one  way  to  reason  it  out,"  said 
old  man  Rubble,  after  various  opinions  had  been 
expressed.  "The  fact  is  Howden  don't  want  to 


100      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

mix  in  with  Bill  at  all.  No  one  ever  saw  Howden 
do  anything  yet.  He's  just  a  big,  raw,  over- 
grown boy.  He  never  did  fight  and  I  guess  he 
never  will  if  he  can  get  out  of  it." 

Someone  in  the  group  murmured  a  word  of 
protest. 

"Well,"  said  Rubble,  "I'm  willing  to  wait  till  I 
find  out.  But  I'm  telling  you  right  now  that  no 
man  in  any  gang  I've  ever  been  with  would  have 
let  Bill  McCartney  get  away  with  it.  If  King 
Howden's  got  any  stomach — and  if  he's  got  any- 
thing in  it — he'd  'a'  hit  Bill  McCartney  on  the 
jaw  before  he  could  have  got  the  words  out.  I 
may  be  wrong,  but — Howden's  no  good !" 

But  Rubble  was  not  allowed  to  dismiss  the 
affair  so  summarily.  There  was  a  somewhat 
thin  voice  that  finally  broke  the  long  silence  that 
followed  Rubble's  words.  Old  Gabe  Smith,  who 
had  been  a  silent  spectator  during  the  events  of 
the  night  before  and  had  given  silent  audience  to 
all  the  discussion  of  the  day,  ventured  a  remark 
or  two  that  he  was  inclined  to  think  had  a  bearing 
on  the  subject. 

"An'  what  I  would  say  is  this,"  he  observed  in 
his  most  philosophical  manner,  after  he  had  given 
due  notice  that  he  intended  to  opeak  on  the  ques- 
tion, "an'  I  have  a  feelin'  that  I'm  not  far  wrong 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      101 

— what  I  would  say  is — if  anybody  here  is  takin* 
Mister  Rubble's  view  of  the  matter — an'  he's  a 
right  to  his  own  opinion — he'd  better  not  make 
up  his  mind  for  a  little  while — not  just  yet.  An' 
I'll  tell  you  why.  In  the  first  place  we  know 
that  when  Bill  McCartney  first  met  Currie  it 
wasn't  quite  what  you'd  want  to  call  reglar.  He 
got  Lush — but  he  got  him  foul.  An'  that  ain't 
the  way  a  good  man  gets  anybody.  An'  then — 
in  the  second  place — that  affair  last  night  was  a 
little  off  color — Lush  couldn't  do  anything  there 
— he  hadn't  room.  But — "  and  Gabe  pointed 
the  stem  of  his  pipe  at  Rubble  to  emphasize  his 
words,  "we  haven't  seen  this  boy  Howden  at  work 
yet." 

"That's  just  it,  Gabe,"  Rubble  interrupted, 
"and  we  never  will." 

"Just  a  minute,  now,"  Gabe  persisted.  "We 
haven't  seen  him  workin'  yet — but  we  may — we 
may.  An'  I'm  goin'  to  wait  long  enough  to  give 
the  boy  a  chance  before  I  say  my  last  word." 

"Lord,  Gabe,  didn't  he  have  a  chance  last 
night?" 

"Well,  Mister  Rubble,"  Gabe  replied  with  great 
deliberateness,  "there  might  be  a  difference  of 
opinion  on  that  point.  You  would  say  he  had — 
I  would  say  that  we  don't  know  exactly.  If  we 


102      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

give  him  a  few  weeks  longer,  Mister  Rubble,  we'll 
both  know  pretty  well  which  one  of  us  is  right. 
But  in  my  opinion  this  boy  Howden  is  no  coward 
— he  may  have  acted  a  bit  strange — but  he's  not  a 
coward — not  to  my  way  of  thinkin' — just  yet." 

Gabe  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  doorway 
as  he  spoke  and  did  not  see  the  figure  that  was 
standing  there  while  he  was  engrossed  in  making 
his  opinion  quite  plain  to  Rubble.  The  other 
men,  however,  forgot  to  listen  to  Gabe's  exposi- 
tion and  were  staring  uneasily  at  King  Howden, 
who  had  appeared  while  the  old  man  was  talking 
and  had  stopped  suddenly  on  hearing  his  own 
name.  When  Gabe  had  finished,  he  turned  con- 
fusedly to  discover  the  cause  of  the  change  that 
was  so  evident  in  the  faces  of  the  men,  and  met 
the  gaze  that  fell  upon  him  from  eyes  that  were 
cold  and  unwavering.  Then  he  saw  the  face 
grow  serious  and  the  lines  of  his  lips  tighten.  The 
next  moment  he  seemed  conscious  most  of  the 
stillness  that  had  fallen  upon  the  group  of  men 
who  filled  the  room.  His  attempt  to  relieve  his 
own  embarrassment  as  well  as  that  of  the  men 
was  a  little  awkward,  but  he  felt  it  was  better 
than  nothing. 

"No  harm  meant,  Howden,  my  boy,"  he  said, 
and  his  voice  was  steady  and  quiet,  "but  we 
were  talkin'  about  you." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      103 

"I  guess  it's  all  right,  Gabe,"  said  King,  and  he 
took  a  step  into  the  room. 

"You  heard  what  I  said?"  the  old  man  asked. 

"That  ain't  troubling  me  any,"  King  replied, 
" — not  any  at  all." 

But  even  as  he  spoke,  his  face  revealed  the 
struggle  that  was  going  on  within  him.  He  was 
not  concerned  over  the  words  that  he  had  heard 
from  Gabe  Smith.  He  knew,  however,  that 
someone  had  spoken  words  that  had  prompted 
Gabe  to  make  a  reply;  and  it  rankled  in  his 
heart  that  he  should  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a 
coward  by  anyone. 

He  went  to  a  chair  standing  back  against  the 
wall  and  sat  down.  The  conversation  dragged 
along  without  interest,  old  man  Rubble  doing  his 
best  to  carry  it  into  one  field  after  another  with- 
out success  until  he  finally  gave  up  in  despair  and 
went  out.  Before  long  the  others  followed  him, 
all  except  Gabe  Smith,  who  remained  alone  with 
King. 

"I'm  an  older  man  than  you,"  he  began  when 
they  were  left  alone,  " — older  by  nearly  thirty 
years.  An'  I've  had  some  chances  to  look  around 
in  the  past  thirty  years.  An'  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you 
right  here  some  things  you've  got  to  know.  I've 
watched  you — an'  I  like  you.  An'  when  a  man 
likes  another  he  wants  him  to  get  along." 


104      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

King's  smile  expressed  the  gratitude  he  felt. 

"I  watched  that  business  last  night  in  Cheney's 
— an'  I  want  to  tell  you  what  I  think.  It  wasn't 
your  fight  to  begin  with — Lush  and  McCartney 
had  been  layin'  for  each  other  for  quite  a  little 
while.  They  had  to  settle  it  one  way  or  the  other. 
It  ain't  settled  yet — an'  what's  worse  you've  got 
yourself  in  for  a  part  of  that  settlement,  too." 

King  leaned  forward  a  little  and  looked  at 
Gabe.  "It's  been  settled — between  them  two," 
he  said  gravely. 

"How  settled?" 

"Lush  won't  be  goin'  back  to  work  any  more. 
He's  goin'  out  to-morrow." 

"He's  leavin',  then — for  sure?" 

"Yes.  He  walked  up  to  see  me  this  afternoon 
an' — he  says  he  can't  stay  here." 

Gabe  puckered  his  lips  and  was  silent  a 
moment.  "Then — that  means,"  he  said  very 
thoughtfully,  " — that  means  he's  handed  it  over 
to  you." 

King  made  no  reply. 

"You've  got  to  take  it  up  from  last  night,"  Gabe 
remarked  again,  and  again  King  remained 
silent.  Gabe  was  silent,  too,  for  a  long  time,  and 
when  he  spoke  his  words  were  so  sudden  and 
direct  that  King  was  startled.  "Why  didn't  you 
finish  it  last  night?" 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      105 

King  turned  round  slightly  to  meet  Anno,  who 
came  into  the  room  and  greeted  him.  He  waited 
until  she  left  before  he  spoke. 

"Gabe,"  he  said  at  last,  "it's  been  clear  between 
us  up  to  now,  hasn't  it?" 

Gabe  nodded  his  head  slowly  without  a  word. 

"I  want  it  to  be  clear — right  on — from  now  till 
the  end.  I  wanted  to  settle  it — an*  I  guess  L 
could,  too."  His  voice  was  quiet,  but  no  man 
could  have  doubted  King's  confidence  in  himself. 
"But  there  was  a  man  once  who  said  just  what 
Bill  McCartney  called  me  last  night — an'  I  killed 
him." 

It  was  Gabe's  turn  to  be  startled.  He  took  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  quickly  and  looked  at  King 
with  consternation  on  his  face. 

"lou — you  killed  him,  boy?" 

"It  seems  like  I  did,"  King  replied  slowly.  "I 
never  can  tell  exactly.  Something  came  up  in 
me — something  blinded  me — an'  I  struck.  When 
they  lifted  him  up  I  knew  I  killed  him — I  was 
sure — because  I  meant  to — that's  what  I  tried  to 
do.  They  told  me  afterwards — they  told  me  he 
came  round  again — he  was  alive.  But  I  couldn't 
believe  it— he  was  my  brother."  King  looked 
out  the  open  doorway  for  a  moment.  "I've  won- 
dered about  that  a  lot,"  he  said  after  a  long 
silence.  "I  think  I've  prayed  about  it,  too — but 


106      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

I  can't  get  it  just  right.  That's  why  I  left — that's 
why  I  came  here.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  it 
— and  start  in  new.  I  wanted  to — to  make  that 
right  with  myself." 

Gabe  Smith  seemed  puzzled  to  understand 
clearly  what  King  was  saying  to  him. 

"Last  night,"  continued  King,  "it  came  back 
again.  I  thought  I  was  strong  enough,  but  I 
guess  I  ain't.  When  he  called  me  that — it  all 
came  back.  I  went  blind  again — and  I  wanted 
to  kill  Bill  McCartney — only  then  I  remem- 
bered, and  it  took  the  heart  out  of  me." 

"Listen,  boy,"  said  Gabe.  "Some  day  you  are 
goin'  to  forget  that — all  of  it.  Some  day  you  are 
goin'  out  to  fight — an'  to  fight  clean — and  to  win. 
and  I'll  tell  you  why.  There's  some  of  us  countin' 
on  you,  and  you've  got  to  make  good — that's 
why." 

King  got  up  and  going  over  to  the  old  man 
gripped  his  shoulder  in  his  large  powerful  hand 
and  looked  down  into  his  face. 

"You're  the  first  man  ever  said  it  to  me  like 
that,"  he  said  very  gravely,  and  his  lips  were  tight 
as  he  spoke,  "and  I  think— I  think  you  can  count 
on  me  from  now  on." 

Gabe  Smith  gave  him  his  hand  and  smiled. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

OLD  man  Hurley  sat  in  his  office  alone  and 
looked  out  of  the  single  window  which  the 
place  boasted.  No  other  window  was  ne- 
cessary, however,  for  it  gave  a  clear  view  of  the 
west  over  the  whole  expanse  of  valley-plain  that 
was  his  one  concern.  It  was  his  one  concern  in  a 
business  way,  for  he  had  been  sent  in  as  Dominion 
Land  Agent  just  as  soon  as  the  new  district  had 
begun  to  attract  settlers,  and  he  was  the  sole 
member  of  the  new  community  upon  whom  the 
dignity  of  governmental  office  of  any  kind  rested. 
But  it  was  his  chief  concern  morally  as  well,  for 
he  felt  the  full  weight  of  the  responsibility  that 
was  his  to  carry  the  new  adventure  in  settlement 
to  a  gratifying  and  successful  issue. 

The  dignity  of  office  rested  gracefully  upon 
Hugh  Hurley.  Genial  and  affable  at  the  same 
time  that  he  was  business-like  and  practical,  he 
was  an  unfailing  source  of  healthy  optimism  and 
unshaken  confidence  in  the  future.  He  was  not 
unaware  of  the  stubborn  difficulties  that  invar- 
iably attend  the  building  up  of  any  new  settle- 

107 


108      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

ment.  But  he  had  vision  and  was  possessed  of  a 
spirit  of  idealism  that  read  something  of  romance 
into  everything  he  did. 

In  the  thick  of  daily  routine,  in  the  midst  of  a 
confusion  of  maps  and  blue-prints  and  survey- 
or's reports  and  governmental  rules  and  regula- 
tions, in  his  daily  meeting  with  newcomers  who 
had  as  yet  suffered  no  disillusionment,  and  with 
disgruntled  "old-timers"  who  had  been  in  the 
district  for  as  long  as  six  months  or  even  longer, 
in  the  thousand  and  one  matters  of  detail  that  try 
the  patience  of  any  conscientious  servant  of  the 
public,  Hugh  Hurley  constantly  cherished  a  vis- 
ion. It  was  of  a  great  fertile  valley,  flanked  on 
either  side  by  rising  blue  hills,  teeming  with  an 
eager-hearted,  virile  population  devoted  to  the 
soil,  and  standing  as  one  more  outpost  of  empire, 
one  more  living  monument  to  high  endeavour. 

In  the  occasional  hour  of  leisure  that  came  to 
him  during  the  day  and  afforded  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  sitting  before  his  window,  he  gave  his 
imagination  free  rein  and  allowed  it  to  wander 
unchecked.  Then  it  was  that  he  saw  the  broad 
fields  of  grain  swaying  in  the  golden  sun.  He 
saw  men  moving  about  over  ploughed  fields  with 
the  rich,  brown  mould  turned  up  to  the  light. 
He  heard  the  singing  of  women  and  the  happy 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      109 

laughter  of  children.  He  heard  the  ringing  of 
the  bells  and  the  busy  hum  of  life  in  little  towns 
and  villages  that  were  as  yet  unborn.  He  saw 
the  hillsides,  now  virgin  and  wild  under  the  after- 
noon sun,  blocked  and  squared  and  trimmed  by 
the  hands  of  busy  workers.  He  saw  a  valley  full- 
mantled  and  smiling,  and  mottled  with  shadows 
thrown  down  from  drifting  clouds.  And  all 
Hugh  Hurley's  energies  were  devoted  to  making 
his  dreams  come  true. 

But  dreams  are  only  dreams,  after  all.  And 
to-day,  as  the  old  man  sat  before  his  window,  he 
was  worried.  Winding  down  the  dusty  trail 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  came  a  long  line 
of  men  in  foreign  attire,  long-skirted  coats  drawn 
in  tightly  at  the  belt,  trouser-legs  tucked  into  long 
boots,  and  round  caps  that  fitted  closely  to  the 
head.  They  were  the  Russian  Doukhobors  re- 
turning from  an  expedition  in  search  of  land. 
While  they  were  still  at  a  considerable  distance 
he  could  hear  the  solemn,  almost  weird  chanting 
of  their  hymn  as  they  marched  along  in  single  file. 
Hurley  had  seen  them  before  in  similar  guise  and 
he  had  always  been  struck  by  the  romance,  the 
other-worldness  of  the  picture  they  presented. 
To-day,  however,  the  romance  was  not  there. 
His  mind  was  occupied  with  something  more 


110      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

actual,  more  immediate.  These  men,  and  their 
wives  and  children  too,  would  have  to  live  during 
the  next  eight  or  ten  months,  most  of  which  would 
be  trying  months  of  fiercely  cold  weather,  and 
they  were  without  resources  of  any  kind.  What 
was  true  of  these  men  was  true  of  hundreds  of 
new  settlers  in  the  valley,  except  that  the  Douk- 
hobors'  reliance  on  the  Almighty  to  furnish  them 
with  food  and  shelter  was  as  complete  as  it  was 
pathetic.  Hugh  Hurley  knew  that  he  must  im- 
mediately constitute  himself  the  elected  agent 
of  Heaven  itself  for  these  people  of  a  blind  faith 
— and  for  the  others  a  practical  provider  of 
means  whereby  the  winter  could  be  met  and 
passed  without  regrets. 

He  was  waiting  now  for  Keith  McBain,  with 
whom  he  had  discussed  the  problem,  and  from 
whom  he  hoped  he  might  get  some  practical  sug- 
gestions. 

Keith  had  promised,  at  their  last  meeting,  to 
see  him  as  soon  as  he  had  made  some  investiga- 
tions on  his  own  part.  Only  half  an  hour  ago  he 
had  seen  the  old  contractor  come  to  town.  But 
Keith  McBain's  first  place  of  call — as  it  was  also 
his  last — was  Mike  Cheney's,  and  Hugh  Hurley 
knew  that  he  could  only  wait  till  the  old  man  was 
ready  to  come. 

One  thing  that  had  given  Hurley  cause  for 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      111 

anxiety  was  the  fact  that  during  the  week  a  num- 
ber of  the  younger  homesteaders  had  bidden  the 
place  good-bye,  and  had  left  for  the  outside, 
where  they  were  going  to  remain  until  it  was  time 
to  go  on  the  land  again  in  the  spring.  Hurley 
knew  what  that  meant.  A  little  more  of  the  same 
kind  of  thing  and  the  movement  would  become 
general.  The  result  would  mean  hardship  and 
even  suffering  for  the  few  who  remained  isolated 
from  the  outside  during  the  long  months  of 
winter. 

Two  young  fellows  entered  the  open  doorway 
behind  Hurley  and  he  turned  to  greet  them. 

"Hello,  boys,"  he  said  cheerfully  as  he  got  up 
and  went  to  meet  them.  "You're  looking  good — 
homesteading  evidently  sets  a  man  up,  eh?" 

They  smiled  and  shook  hands. 

'We're  sure  feelin'  good,"  said  one  of  them, 
"but  we've  had  enough  of  homesteadin'  for  a  little 
while — it  gets  on  your  nerves.  We're  goin'  out 
for  the  winter." 

"Going  out  for  the  winter?"  Hurley  exclaimed 
with  a  smile.  "No — no,  you're  not — you're  go- 
ing to  stay  here  this  winter — and  help  out." 

"Help  out— at  what?" 

"Sit  down  there  and  smoke  while  I  tell  you  a 
story." 


112      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

When  they  were  seated  Hurley  began. 

"This  reminds  me  of  an  argument  I  heard  once 
between  a  pioneer  preacher  and  a  member  of  his 
congregation.  This  preacher  was  holding  forth 
on  hell,  and  after  the  service  he  met  up  with  one 
of  his  freethinking  brethren  who  didn't  believe  in 
hell,  or  heaven,  either.  'So  you  don't  believe  in 
hell,'  said  the  preacher.  Well,  mister,  I'll  tell 
you  how  I  size  it  up.  I'm  betting  on  hell — anj 
I'm  betting  for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place  it's 
a  good  hunch — and  in  the  second  place  I'm  plum 
scared  not  to.  It's  like  this,'  he  said.  'You  say 
there  ain't  no  hell  an'  you  put  your  money  on 
that  hand.  You  just  have  to  draw  one  card  to 
find  out.  I  say  there  is  a  hell  an'  I'm  playin'  that 
hand.  An'  I  draw  one.  All  right.  You  draw 
your  card  an'  you  turn  it  up.  If  you've  played 
the  right  hunch  what  do  you  win?  Nothin'.  If 
there  ain't  no  hell  or  heaven  you're  no  better  off, 
even  if  you  ain't  worse  off.  You're  just  where 
you  were.  But  if  you're  playing  the  wrong  hunch 
an'  you  turn  up  your  card  an'  find  there's  a  sure 
'nough  hell — you're  stuck.  Ain't  that  right?  You 
stand  to  win  nothin'  an'  lose  everything.  Now 
look  at  me.  I  say  there  is  a  hell  an'  I  draw  an' 
turn  up.  If  I  don't  make  it — I  don't  lose  any- 
thing anyhow.  I'm  no  better  off — but  I'm  sure 


no  worse  oft.  But  if  I  turn  up  an'  find  there  is  a 
sure  'nough  hell — I  win,  because  that's  my  hunch 
an*  I'm  ready  to  play  it,  see?  I  stand  to  lose  no- 
thing an'  there's  just  about  one  chance  in  two 
that  I'll  clean  up  with  eternal  life  in  the  stakes. 
Any  old  way  you  look  at  it  I  got  you  beat — ain't 
that  right?  I'm  bettin'  on  hell  till  the  cows  come 
home!'" 

Hurley  went  and  stood  for  a  moment  before 
the  window  and  looked  out  across  the  valley. 

"The  point  is  this,  boys,"  he  said  at  last,  turn- 
ing quickly  and  looking  at  the  two  sturdy  young 
fellows  before  him,  "you  and  I  and  the  rest  of 
these  people  here" — he  waved  his  hand  towards 
the  window — "have  come  into  this  valley  because 
we  believed  in  it.  We're  playing  a  kind  of  a 
hunch,  boys,  that  the  place  is  a  good  place  to  live 
in,  an'  when  a  man  does  what  we've  done  he's 
playing  pretty  heavily.  If  we  throw  up  the  game 
now,  we  lose.  That's  all  there  is  to  it.  And  not 
only  do  we  lose  but  these  people  around  us  lose 
too — and  lose  heavily.  We've  got  to  play  the 
game  through  against  hard  luck  and  wait  for  the 
next  spring  before  we  begin  to  take  our  win- 
nings." 

"But  we've  got  to  live,  Mr.  Hurley,"  one  of  the 
men  protested. 


114      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Live — yes — and  I've  been  working  on  that. 
And  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  grub-stake  the 
whole  caboodle  of  you  for  six  months,  beginning 
the  middle  of  October,  and  I'll  pay  you  a  dollar  a 
day  for  every  day's  work  you  put  in  if  you  hang 
on." 

The  men  looked  doubtful  but  were  interested. 
"That  looks  all  right,"  one  of  them  offered, 
"but—" 

"But  nothing,"  interrupted  Hurley.  "I'll  do 
what  I  say  and  I  can  make  money  on  it  too.  I 
couldn't  pay  one  man  a  dollar  a  day  for  a  fore- 
noon just  now,  but  listen — this  country's  got  to 
produce  something  if  it's  going  to  live,  and  it 
might  as  well  start  in  this  year  as  next.  And 
when  the  rush  comes  in  here  next  spring — and  it's 
coming  strong — there'll  be  a  crowd  of  people  here. 
I  hear  about  it  every  time  the  mail  comes  in.  This 
town  will  be  five  times  as  big  in  a  month.  The 
man  who's  on  the  ground  with  his  eyes  open  will 
take  the  winnings.  The  railway  will  be  in  before 
July,  and  the  towns  will  be  springing  up  and  busi- 
ness will  start  and  we'll  be  a  part  of  the  world 
we've  just  left  before  we  know  it.  And  that's 
only  one  side  of  it.  You  boys  have  registered 
your  claims  here  and  started  improvements  be- 
cause you  want  to  live  here  sometime.  If  it's  go- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      115 

ing  to  be  a  fit  place  to  live  in  we  don't  want  any 
set-backs.  Start  to  stampede  for  the  outside  now 
and  by  the  time  you  get  back  you'll  be  where  you 
were  when  you  first  landed  here.  That's  not  my 
idea.  I'm  going  to  stay  right  here  and  get  ready 
for  the  big  rush." 

All  at  once  they  were  aware  of  someone  enter- 
ing the  office,  and  turned  to  find  Keith  McBain 
coming  through  the  doorway.  The  young  fel- 
lows got  up  at  once  and  with  a  word  to  Hurley, 
promising  to  drop  in  the  next  day,  left  the  office. 

"Do  you  know  what  I've  done?"  said  Hurley 
as  soon  as  they  had  gone. 

Keith  McBain  merely  waited  for  a  reply. 

"I've  promised  those  two  boys  work  for  the 
winter  at  a  dollar  a  day  and  three  square  meals. 
I  had  to  do  it,  Keith — they're  good  men,  both  of 
them,  and  they  were  on  their  way  out  for  the  win- 
ter. We  can't  let  these  men  go.  We've  got  to 
give  them  something  to  do  and  hold  them  here  till 
spring." 

"I've  got  it  worked  out,"  said  Keith.  "I  was 
talking  last  week  to  McKenzie,  and  we  can  put  in 
a  camp  just  as  soon  as  we  can  get  a  good  location. 
They  want  a  quarter  to  a  half  million  ties  for  con- 
struction. There's  a  lot  of  stuff  in  there  just 
south  of  the  camp.  All  we've  got  to  do  is  to  go 


116      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  find  it  ana  start  right  in.  Any  of  your  men 
here  know  anything  about  cruising?" 

As  if  by  way  of  answer  to  this  question  King 
Howden  rode  up  to  the  door  and  without  getting 
down  called  for  Hurley  to  bring  out  the  mail  bag. 
Hurley  went  to  the  door  and  invited  him  in. 
When  King  entered  his  eyes  fell  upon  Keith  Mc- 
Bain,  and  for  a  moment  he  paused  and  held  out 
his  hand.  The  old  contractor's  greeting  was 
pleasant,  and  King  went  in  and  stood  waiting  for 
Hurley  to  speak. 

"You  did  some  work  once  in  the  lumber  woods 
at  the  coast,  King,  didn't  you?"  Hurley  asked 
him. 

King's  look  expressed  mild  surprise.  "A  little," 
he  said. 

"Done  some  timber-cruising?" 

"About  all  I  did  for  three  years — summer  and 
winter,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  you'd  better  spend  an  extra  day  or  two 
on  your  trip  this  time.  You'd  better  wait  over 
until  to-morrow  morning  and  get  ready.  Take 
enough  grub — they'll  fix  you  up  at  the  lodging- 
house — and  a  couple  of  blankets,  and  get  a  good 
start  in  the  morning.  We'd  like  you  to  take  the 
old  trail  into  the  hills  and  then  work  your  way 
east  to  the  right-of-way.  You  might  aim  at  com- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      117 

ing  out  pretty  close  to  the  end  of  the  steel.  Use 
your  own  judgment.  Anyhow,  we  want  you  to 
get  a  good  location  for  a  tie-camp  for  the  winter. 
We  have  a  contract  and  want  to  open  on  it  as 
soon  as  the  frost  comes.  What  do  you  think 
about  it?" 

"I  guess  I  can  do  that,  sir,"  King  replied 
quietly.  "The  mail  will  be  a  couple  of  days  late, 
but—" 

"Never  mind  about  that,  King,"  Hurley  inter- 
rupted. "The  mail  can  afford  to  wait  over.  Just 
get  ready  to  spend  as  much  time  as  it  will  take  to 
do  it  right." 

King  turned  and  went  out  to  set  about  his 
preparations  for  the  trip  into  the  hills. 

As  he  started  hastily  down  the  street  he 
brushed  against  someone  standing  near  the  en-f 
trance  to  Hurley's  office.  Looking  back,  he  recog- 
nized Tom  Rickard,  one  of  Keith  McBain's  men, 
lounging  lazily  against  the  wall  only  a  few  feet 
from  the  doorway.  The  circumstance  held  no 
special  significance  for  him  at  the  time,  and  yet 
he  couldn't  help  wondering  why  Rickard  was  in 
town. 

In  the  office  Hurley  was  standing  before  Keith 
McBain,  who  had  remained  perfectly  silent 
during  the  interview  with  King.  Hurley  was  re- 
garding McBain  seriously. 


118      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"What  do  you  think  of  Howden?" 

"He's  a  good  boy,"  Keith  remarked  dryly. 

"Couldn't  he  handle  that  camp  for  the  winter 
— a  little  better  than  anyone  around  here?" 

McBain  did  not  say  anything  for  some  time, 
but  sat  meditatively  smoking  his  pipe.  Finally 
he  seemed  to  have  reached  a  conclusion. 

"He's  a  good  boy,  Hugh,"  he  remarked  slowly, 
"but  he's  got  to  be  more  than  that  before  he  can 
handle  a  gang  of  men  in  a  bush.  He's  got  to  have 
the  stomach!" 

Hurley  went  to  his  window  and  looked  out.  In 
his  own  mind  he  was  turning  over  the  possibility 
of  getting  King  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  the 
confidence  he  felt.  He  had  heard  the  men  talk 
of  the  affair  with  McCartney,  and  he  knew  pretty 
well  what  was  in  Keith  McBain's  mind. 

King's  preparations  were  made  quickly,  and 
by  supper  time  he  was  ready  to  take  the  trail  next 
morning.  He  had  yet  to  go  back  to  his  cabin  for 
a  couple  of  blankets,  but  he  waited  till  later  in  the 
evening,  and  decided  that  he  would  spend  the 
night  in  his  shack  and  start  from  there  early  in 
the  morning.  He  took  supper  at  the  lodging- 
house  in  company  with  Keith  McBain,  who  was 
in  one  of  his  silent  moods,  having  already  spent 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      119 

too  much  time  in  the  company  of  Mike  Cheney 
during  the  afternoon.  With  them  was  Tom  Rick- 
ard,  as  silent  and  uncommunicative  as  Keith  Mc- 
Bain.  From  the  knowledge  that  King  had  of 
the  old  contractor's  ways  he  feared  he  was  out  on 
another  of  his  lengthy  visits  to  town.  And  King's 
mind  went  back  immediately  to  Cherry,  who  was 
probably  even  then  waiting  anxiously  for  her 
father's  return. 

The  first  hours  of  such  a  visit  on  the  part  of 
Keith  McBain  were  usually  spent  in  secret  with 
Mike  Cheney,  and  invariably  produced  a  mood  in 
which  he  refused  to  speak  to  anyone.  When  they 
sat  down  to  the  table,  King  asked  him  when  he 
intended  going  back  to  camp.  The  old  man  of- 
fered not  a  word  by  way  of  reply,  and  the  meal 
went  forward  without  any  further  conversation 
between  the  two.  Anne  came  and  went  fre- 
quently during  the  short  half  hour  that  King 
spent  at  the  table,  or  stood  a  little  back  from  him 
and  offered  a  few  words  now  and  then  which 
King  responded  to  briefly  but  pleasantly  enough. 
The  two  young  fellows  who  had  visited  Hurley's 
office  earlier  in  the  afternoon  to  announce  their 
intention  of  going  out  for  the  winter  had  eaten 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and  had  apparently  spoken 
of  their  plans  in  Anne's  hearing.  She  had  some- 


120      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

thing  to  say  about  it  herself — but  she  waited  till 
Keith  McBain  had  gone  out  and  disappeared  up 
the  street,  followed  by  Tom  Rickard.  Then  she 
spoke  of  the  thing  that  was  on  her  mind. 

"They're  sure  in  luck,"  she  remarked  as  if  she 
were  thinking  aloud.  "This  place  gives  me  the 
blues.  Talk  about  a  dead  place — this  ain't  no 
town,  it's  a  graveyard !  It's  worse  than  that — it's 
a  prayer-meetin'  without  the  shoutin' !" 

King  laughed  quietly  to  himself,  and  Anne 
turned  to  him.  "Honest,  King,  it  ain't  no  place 
for  white  people  to  live.  It's  been  all  right  this 
summer  with  everybody  round  and  things  movin' 
a  little — but  the  winter — an  everybody  away — 
God,  you  don't  know  how  I  hate  the  idea." 

King  got  up  from  the  table  and  went  to  the 
doorway.  It  had  already  begun  to  grow  dusk, 
and  the  air  was  cool  and  inviting.  For  a  moment 
he  stood  looking  into  the  street  with  its  rambling 
houses  and  squat  little  cabins  on  either  side. 

"Anne,"  he  said  slowly,  "some  of  us  have  to 
stay,  I  guess — stay  here  and  see  it  through.  It 
won't  be  easy — but  it's  the  right  thing  to  do — 
that's  how  I  see  it.  Besides,  it  may  be  better 
than  we  think — wait  and  see." 

While  he  talked  his  eyes  were  still  turned  to- 
wards the  street.  He  did  not  look  at  the  girl 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      121 

until  he  was  through.  Then  he  turned  to  her 
and  looked  at  her  where  she  stood,  leaning 
against  the  table.  Her  eyes  were  on  his  face,  and 
her  gaze  was  Ifltfig  and  steady.  He  had  a  sus- 
picion that  thefC  were  tears  ready  to  come — there 
was  something  deeper  and  more  thoughtful  in 
them  than  he  had  ever  seen  there  before.  He 
knew  that  the  girl  was  lonely,  and  that  she  had 
no  friends. 

"Anne,"  he  said  slowly,  in  a  voice  that  was 
kindness  itself,  "you  ought  to  get  out  more — you 
ought  to  ride  out  a  little.  You  ought  to  walk." 

She  smiled  and  gave  an  impatient  shrug  to  her 
shoulders. 

"Walk — Lord!"  Then  she  set  about  clearing 
the  table  and  for  a  while  both  were  silent.  At  last 
she  set  down  a  dish  she  held  in  her  hand  and  came 
over  to  where  King  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"Haven't  I  walked?"  she  said  in  a  voice  that 
was  tense  with  emotion.  "Haven't  I  spent  hours 
alone  walking  these  trails  up  and  down?  That 
doesn't  help  any.  I  came  in  here  because  I 
wanted  to  get  away  by  myself  an'  start  all  over 
again.  Lord,  I  sure  did  it — I  got  away  by  myself 
all  right.  An'  I  got  sick  of  it.  Then  I  wanted  to 
get  out  with  people — honest-to-God-people  that 
cared  a  little — no  matter  who.  But  where  can  I 


122      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

go  ?  They  think  there's  something  wrong  because 
I  got  into  Mike's  place  the  night  of  the  scrap. 
They  didn't  like  my  way  round  here  before  that. 
Well,  it's  my  way,  isn't  it?  It's  aH  I  got.  I  don't 
owe  anything — I'm  square.  But  I  want  some 
one  that  will  talk  to  me — an'  talk  right — not  like 
a  lot  of  these  fellows  want  to  talk.  That's  what  I 
want." 

King  put  out  his  hand  and  took  her  arm.  I 
guess  that's  right,  Anne,"  he  said.  "I've  felt  like 
that.  We'll  talk — you  and  I — talk  together 
sometimes.  And  then  maybe — "  he  began  to 
think  of  the  possibility  of  Anne  coming  to  know 
Cherry  McBain. 

"I've  been  wantin'  to  talk  to  you  often,"  she 
said,  very  quietly  and  very  slowly.  "But  you 
seemed  to  pass  me  up  like  the  rest  of  them.  Only 
I  liked  you  because  you  looked  square.  An'  I 
was  afraid  to  talk  to  you — because  I  wanted  you 
to  like  me." 

For  a  moment  King  was  silent  as  he  weighed 
the  full  meaning  of  her  words.  He  felt  the  pres- 
sure of  her  hand  on  his  arm  as  she  spoke,  and 
there  crept  over  him  a  strange  feeling  of  fear. 
He  liked  the  girl,  he  had  the  deepest  sympathy  for 
her,  he  would  do  anything  in  his  power  to  make 
life  more  pleasant  for  her.  And  yet — he  shrank 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      123 

slowly  from  her  touch  and  was  impatient  to  get 
away. 

"I  guess  it'll  be  late  enough  when  I  get  back," 
he  said  suddenly.  "And  I've  got  to  make  a  good 
start  for  the  hills  to-morrow." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder.  "We've  got 
to  face  a  lot  of  things  in  life,  Anne,"  he  said;  "a 
whole  lot  of  things.  It  ain't  always  easy — but  it 
pays  to  face  up." 

He  stood  before  her  in  the  doorway  and  looked 
directly  into  her  face  as  he  spoke.  For  a  moment 
she  returned  the  look  and  then  suddenly  bowed 
her  head  before  him.  Putting  his  arm  about  her 
shoulders  he  raised  her  head  gently  and  looked 
at  her. 

"Anne,  girl,"  he  said  slowly,  "I'm  coming  to 
see  you — if  it  would  help  any — when  I  get  back. 
So  long!" 

She  looked  at  him  squarely  and  he  knew  she 
understood  him.  The  fear  he  had  entertained 
only  a  moment  before  was  gone  now.  He  was 
confident  that  everything  between  them  was  just 
as  he  wanted  it  to  be.  In  her  heart  was  a  deep 
yearning  for  companionship — in  his,  a  feeling  of 
great  pity  for  the  girl  who  was  struggling  against 
the  demon  of  loneliness. 


124      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"King,"  she  said  at  last,  "you're  right — and  I 
like  that." 

A  sound  of  hoofs  came  suddenly  from  the  trail 
only  a  few  yards  away.  Anne  stepped  back 
quickly  from  the  doorway  and  fcing  turned  to 
face  Cherry  McBain,  who  had  brought  her  horse 
to  a  standstill  and  was  already  looking  down  at 
him  from  her  place  in  the  saddle.  He  was  about 
to  express  his  surprise,  but  the  look  she  gave  him 
caused  the  words  to  die  on  his  lips. 

"I'm  looking  for  my  father,"  she  said  in  a  voice 
that  to  King's  ears  sounded  like  the  voice  of  a 
stranger. 

The  sound  of  men's  voices  came  from  farther 
up  the  street,  and  looking  out,  King  saw  Hugh 
Hurley  and  Keith  McBain  leaving  the  land-of- 
fice. Cherry  saw  the  men  at  the  same  moment, 
and  without  a  word  rode  away  to  join  her  father. 
Just  once  King  called  after  her,  but  received  no 
reply.  He  watched  them  till  all  three  had  van- 
ished in  the  direction  of  Hurley's  little  house  that 
stood  under  the  poplars  at  the  end  of  the  street. 
Then  he  stepped  out  and  went  off  down  the  trail 
to  where  his  horse,  was  tethered  outside  Hurley's 
office, 

When  he  had  mounted  into  his  saddle  he  turned 


125 


and  looked  back  along  the  street.  In  the  dusky 
frame  of  the  lodging-house  doorway  he  could  see 
Anne  still  standing  where  he  had  left  her.  She 
waved  her  hand  to  him  as  he  looked  back  at  her, 
and  he  waved  in  reply  as  he  drew  his  horse's  head 
about  and  took  the  trail  that  led  westward  to  his 
cabin. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

KING  HOWDEN  was  at  a  loss  to  under- 
stand himself  that  night.  Into  a  few  short 
days  had  been  crowded  more  emotion,  more 
stirring  experience  than  he  had  ever  known  be- 
fore. The  very  fact  that  there  had  been  nothing 
spectacular,  nothing  especially  thrilling,  in  what 
had  occurred  only  made  the  effects  more  far- 
reaching  and  real.  A  change  had  come  over  him 
that  was  the  result  of  forces  working  so  deeply 
within  him  that  he  knew  life  from  this  time  for- 
ward was  to  mean  something  different,  something 
more  serious  than  it  had  ever  meant  to  him. 

When  he  arrived  at  his  cabin,  after  putting  his 
horse  away  for  the  night  and  making  a  few  final 
preparations  for  an  early  start  in  the  morning, 
he  found  his  bunk  strangely  uninviting.  His 
mind,  was  unusually  busy  turning  over  and 
over  a  host  of  thoughts  that  crowded  upon  one 
another  in  a  confusion  that  made  sleep  impos- 
sible. He  went  to  the  doorway  of  his  shack,  and 
sitting  on  the  doorstep  drew  his  dog  down  beside 
him  and  tried  to  think  himself  clear  of  the  con- 

126 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      127 

fusion.  He  recalled  the  night  he  had  learned 
of  his  brother's  death — it  seemed  as  if  a  year  had 
gone  since  that  night,  instead  of  a  week.  His 
imagination  dwelt  upon  Cherry  McBain  as  she 
looked  that  night  when  she  rode  beside  him  on 
the  trail.  His  heart  bounded  again  as  he  saw  her 
standing  before  him  on  the  little  bridge  over  the 
White  Pine — and  he  felt  again,  as  he  had  felt  a 
hundred  times  since,  the  ecstasy  of  that  moment 
when  Cherry  had  asked  him  for  his  help  against 
a  man  he  already  hated.  He  smiled  at  the  recol- 
lection of  his  meeting  with  McCartney  in 
Cheney's  place.  Then  his  heart  froze  as  he 
thought  of  what  had  happened  only  within  the 
last  hour. 

As  he  sat  alone  on  the  doorstep  the  night  came 
down  on  the  hills  and  the  valley,  but  King  had 
no  thought  of  the  passing  hours.  His  mind  was 
on  the  sudden  appearance  of  Cherry  McBain, 
like  an  apparition  out  of  the  dusk,  and  the  coldly 
accusing  note  in  her  voice  when  she  had  spoken. 

"She  couldn't  think — "  he  murmured  to  him- 
self and  then  stopped. 

He  wondered  that  he  had  not  gone  off  to  find 
her — to  follow  her  and  explain  it  all.  And  then 
it  occurred  to  him  that  words — his  words  particu- 
larly—were helpless  things  after  all.  Even  if  he 


128      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

had  gone  and  found  her,  and  spoken  to  her,  what 
would  his  words  have  done?  And  yet — he  clung 
fiercely  to  a  hope — the  hope  that  had  so  lately 
been  born  in  him. 

"She  can't  think  I'm  wrong,"  he  went  on.  "She 
can't — I  couldn't  stand  that.  I've  been  trying — \ 
I'm  not  right  all  through,  but  I'm  not  wrong  like 
that.  She's  got  to  believe  me." 

And  then  it  came  upon  him — came  with  crys- 
tal clearness — that  the  heart  of  Cherry  McBain 
could  be  won  and  held  only  by  a  man  that  was 
not  afraid  of  himself,  a  man  who  had  a  task  so 
great  that  it  overshadowed  petty  problems  and 
made  them  insignificant  by  comparison.  And  so 
King  Howden  renewed  the  covenant  he  had  made 
with  himself  only  a  few  days  before,  that  his 
place  in  life  was  something  more  than  the  small 
circle  drawn  about  his  narrow  existence,  with  its 
little  weaknesses  and  discouragements  and  fail- 
ures. Only  this  time  the  covenant  was  made 
sacred  because  a  man's  love  for  a  woman  had  set 
its  seal  on  it. 

By  the  first  streak  of  dawn  King  was  already 
well  along  the  trail.  He  wanted  to  reach  the  top 
of  the  hills  by  sunrise,  and  with  a  climb  of  some 
five  or  six  miles  before  him  he  urged  his  horse 
forward  at  a  good  pace.  From  the  low-lying 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      129 

levels  of  the  grassy  plain  and  the  deep  meadows, 
to  the  first  rolling  uplands  he  mounted  while  the 
dawn  was  still  gray,  and  from  the  uplands  to  the 
hills  and  down  through  the  valleys  that  lay  be- 
tween. The  old  trail  had  not  been  used  much 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  summer  owing  to 
the  steadily  decreasing  distance  that  now  lay  be- 
tween the  new  settlement  and  the  end  of  the  steel. 
On  either  side  and  in  the  centre  of  the  trail  where 
ran  the  narrow  ridge  between  the  two  tracks,  the 
grass  was  high  and  drenched  the  horse's  legs  with 
dew. 

And  as  he  mounted  higher,  the  coming  of  the 
new  day  broke  upon  him  like  a  benediction,  so 
that  his  very  soul  sang  with  the  joy  of  the  open 
sky  and  the  rolling  hills,  the  free  trail  and  the 
throbbing  pulse  of  youth.  When  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  first  upstanding  hill  he  emerged  from 
the  fringe  of  trees  that  lined  the  crest  just  in  time 
to  see  the  sun  pushing  its  way  above  the  horizon. 
In  the  valley  that  lay  before  him  the  morning 
mist  was  stretched  low  and  motionless.  On  the 
hillside  opposite,  where  the  sun's  rays  had  not  yet 
found  their  way,  the  trees  were  hidden  in  the  half- 
dusk  like  ghosts  waiting  for  some  voice  to  waken 
them.  The  trail  that  led  before  him  lost  itself 
under  cover  of  the  white  shroud,  and  over  all  was 


130      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

poured  the  rich  glory  of  the  rising  sun.  King  took 
off  his  hat  and  looked  long  and  silently.  Then 
facing  northward  he  dismounted  and,  taking  the 
bridle  rein  in  one  hand,  left  the  trail  and  plunged 
into  the  woods. 

Early  that  night  he  found  a  circle  of  tamaracs 
beside  a  little  stream  of  cold  water  and  decided 
to  put  up  for  the  night.  The  day  had  been  a  long 
one,  and  had  proven  very  heavy,  but  he  had  suc- 
ceeded in  his  quest  and  was  content  with  the  re- 
sults of  his  efforts.  He  was  very  tired,  and  after 
removing  the  saddle  and  pack  from  his  horse  he 
found  a  grassy  plot  not  far  away  and  tethered 
him  for  the  night.  Then  he  prepared  a  little 
smudge  at  the  edge  of  the  plot  and  returned  to  his 
camp.  When  he  had  eaten  his  supper  he  un- 
strapped his  blankets  and  tossed  them  in  a  loose 
roll  upon  the  soft  ground  where  it  was  covered 
with  brown  needles  and  dry  cones.  Then  he 
rolled  himself  a  cigarette  and  smoked  it  in  silence 
while  he  thought  over  the  results  of  his  day's 
cruising. 

The  sun  had  already  gone  down  when  he  got 
up  and  went  again  to  make  sure  that  his  horse 
had  received  all  the  attention  necessary  for  the 
night.  When  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  every- 
thing was  as  it  should  be,  and  had  partly  smoth- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      131 

ered  the  smudge  in  order  that  its  usefulness  might 
last  well  through  the  night,  he  turned  back  up  the 
hill  again  to  roll  in  for  the  night.  A  passing  mood 
caused  him  to  circle  about  so  that  he  came  out 
on  a  small  elevation,  clear  of  trees,  that  stood 
back  from  his  camp. 

When  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  he 
could  see  clear  away  to  the  west  over  the  broad 
valley  where  lay  the  town  and  his  own  little 
cabin  that  he  had  left  early  that  morning.  He 
thought  he  could  make  out  the  place,  off  to  the 
north,  where  lay  the  right-of-way  and  Keith  Mc- 
Bain's  construction  camp.  Then  as  his  eyes  swept 
the  intervening  space  something  arrested  his  at- 
tention. 

Everywhere  were  the  slow-forming  mists  of  the 
early  evening.  But  down  there  to  the  right — it 
couldn't  be  more  than  a  mile  away — there  was 
something  that  was  not  mist,  though  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  make  it  out,  even  at  so  short  a  distance, 
with  the  shadows  already  beginning  to  deepen  in 
the  lower  places.  What  he  saw  was  a  slowly 
rising,  thin  column  of  smoke,  and  his  heart  beat 
faster  as  he  began  to  realize  slowly  what  it  might 
mean.  Someone  was  down  there  making  a  camp 
for  the  night.  There  was  no  reason  in  the  world 
for  anyone  wandering  through  the  hills  at  such 


133      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

a  time — unless  it  was  the  same  reason  that  had 
brought  King  Howden  himself  there.  It  was  not 
easy  to  explain,  but  he  was  not  slow  in  coming  to 
a  decision  to  act.  Merely  as  a  matter  of  self- 
defence  he  determined  that  he  should  at  least 
guard  against  being  discovered. 

He  hurried  down  the  hill,  sliding,  leaping,  and 
running  by  turns,  and  came  in  a  few  seconds  to 
the  edge  of  the  little  meadow  where  his  horse  was 
standing  in  the  comfortable  protection  of  the 
cloud  of  smoke  rising  from  the  smudge. 

"You  poor  old  cuss,"  he  said  regretfully, 
"you'll  have  to  use  your  tail  to  keep  the  mos- 
quitoes off  to-night.  No  more  smoke,  if  they  eat 
you  alive." 

With  that  he  kicked  the  smudge-pile  vigor- 
ously, scattering  it  over  the  ground  and  leaving 
the  embers  smoking  feebly  where  they  lay  in  the 
grass.  Then  he  went  carefully  from  one  spot  to 
another  and  stamped  out  the  last  traces  of  the 
fire.  Going  back  to  the  spot  he  had  chosen  for  the 
night  he  left  Sal  on  guard  with  a  word  of  warning 
not  to  follow  him,  and  set  off  again  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  he  had  discovered  the  smoke.  He 
had  no  intention  of  attempting  to  satisfy  his 
curiosity  by  spying  on  strangers.  He  wanted  to 
be  reasonably  sure  that  he  himself  was  not  being 
spied  upon — that  was  all. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      133 

And  so  he  moved  about  cautiously  and  waited 
patiently  for  the  first  sound  that  would  announce 
the  approach  of  anyone.  When  it  was  very  late 
and  he  had  heard  nothing  to  alarm  him,  he  re- 
turned, confident  that  he  would  not  be  molested, 
and  rolling  himself  in  his  blankets,  pillowed  his 
head  on  the  saddle  and  went  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  he  was  awake  at  dawn,  and 
without  waiting  to  prepare  breakfast,  he  clam- 
bered up  the  hill  behind  his  camping  place  and 
sat  down  to  watch  for  the  first  signs  of  life  in  the 
camp  below.  And  as  he  sat  and  waited  he 
worked  out  in  his  own  mind,  now  fresh  from  the 
night's  sound  sleep  under  the  open  sky,  what  was 
at  least  a  tentative  explanation  of  the  new  cir- 
cumstance that  had  so  suddenly  forced  itself  into 
his  plans.  He  remembered  now,  with  a  new  sense 
of  its  possible  significance,  the  unexpected  ar- 
rival in  town  of  Cherry  McBain  late  in  the  even- 
ing. Why  had  she  come  for  her  father?  Then 
he  recalled  the  fact  that  Keith  McBain  Had  not 
come  to  town  alone.  Was  there  any  special  signi- 
ficance in  the  presence  of  Tom  Rickard  in  town 
at  the  same  time?  THere  was  nothing  in  KeitK 
McBain's  silence  that  was  unusual  to  one  who 
knew  him,  but  King  felt  that  the  old  contractor 
had  been  more  than  ordinarily  silent  and  perhaps 


134      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

a  little  ill-natured.  He  could  not  help  thinking 
that  something  was  brewing  behind  it  all  and, 
right  or  wrong,  his  conviction  was  that  the  camp 
down  there  a  mile  or  so  away  had  some  connec- 
tion with  it  all. 

Suddenly  he  was  aware  of  a  column  of  white 
smoke  rising  out  of  the  trees.  The  traveller  was 
apparently  making  ready  for  an  early  start.  King 
sat  watching  the  smoke  for  nearly  an  hour  before 
anything  happened  to  which  he  could  attach  any 
special  importance.  Then  the  figures  of  two  men 
appeared  suddenly  in  the  open  space  beside  the 
trees.  They  were  leading  a  couple  of  horses.  He 
got  to  his  feet  as  he  saw  them  and  then  squatted 
down  suddenly  and  drew  Sal  towards  him,  lest 
she  should  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  strangers  and 
set  up  an  alarm. 

The  figures  were  headed  southward,  in  the 
direction  from  which  King  had  come  the  day  be- 
fore. For  several  minutes  he  watched  them  with- 
out moving  from  his  place.  Then  as  they  disap- 
peared from  view  behind  the  shoulder  of  a  hill  he 
scrambled  down  the  slope  to  his  camp  and  went 
about  leisurely  to  prepare  his  breakfast.  If  the 
strangers  were  on  a  similar  errand  to  his  own 
he  was  well  ahead  of  them.  Before  evening  he 
would  have  completed  his  cruising  in  the  hills 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      135 

and  with  ordinary  good  luck  would  reach  the  end 
of  the  steel  by  night-fall.  When  he  had  break- 
fasted he  completed  a  few  preparations  necessary 
for  the  day's  trip  and  was  on  his  way  again  at 
sunrise. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  emerged  upon  the 
trail  about  half-way  between  McBain's  camp  and 
the  end  of  the  steel.  The  air  was  heavy  with  a 
promise  of  rain  in  it.  For  the  last  mile  or  so  he 
had  followed  a  creek  in  which  only  a  small  stream 
of  water  trickled  over  the  stones,  and  now,  the 
wearisome  part  of  the  day's  work  done,  he  sat 
down  upon  a  log  at  the  side  of  the  road  and  sized 
up  the  work  he  had  done  during  the  last  two  days 
in  the  hills.  The  timber  was  there  for  the  pur- 
poses that  Hurley  and  Keith  McBain  sought,  the 
supply  was  more  than  their  needs  called  for,  and 
he  had  found  an  admirable  site  for  a  camp. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  satisfaction, 
therefore,  that  he  finally  got  into  the  saddle  and 
started  for  the  end-of-the-steel. 

Late  that  evening  King  strolled  leisurely  in  the 
direction  of  the  railway  siding  where  stood  a  long 
line  of  cars  that  served  as  sleeping  quarters  for 
the  men  who  were  attached  to  the  bridge  gang. 
For  a  month  or  more  they  had  been  busy  re^ 
placing  the  old  temporary  bridge  by  a  more  per- 


136      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

manent  structure.  From  a  distance  he  had  heard 
the  voices  of  the  men  chatting  and  laughing 
among  themselves.  The  two  days  spent  alone  in 
the  hills  had  awakened  in  him  afresh  the  desire  to 
be  with  men  and  hear  them  talk. 

He  came  upon  them  at  an  interesting  moment. 
Two  men  of  the  gang  were  matched  in  a  wrestling 
bout,  the  others  standing  round  watching  the 
contest  closely.  King  waited  at  some  distance 
until  the  affair  was  over  before  he  made  his  pres- 
ence known.  Then  he  stepped  forward  and  en- 
tered the  circle  of  men.  Good  nature  pervaded 
the  group,  and  King  was  the  recipient  of  pleasant 
greetings  from  all  sides.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  circle  stood  Larkin,  Keith  McBain's  freighter. 

"Hey,  you  outsiders — Larkin  and  Howden," 
called  one  of  the  men;  "you  fellows  can't  sit  in 
on  this  game  for  nothin'.  Give  us  a  little  action. 
Even  money  that  Howden  can  put  Larkin  on  his 
back  in  three  minutes." 

"Any  takers?"  asked  Larkin,  during  the  pause 
that  followed  this  outburst. 

Almost  immediately  came  a  dozen  responses, 
whether  from  lack  of  confidence  in  King's  ability 
or  from  sheer  desire  for  sport. 

King  felt  himself  pushed  out  into  the  centre  of 
the  circle,  where  he  stood  smiling  and  looking 
at  Larkin. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      137 

"Get  in,  Larkin,"  cried  a  voice.  "No  time  now 
for  lettin'  your  blood  freeze  in  your  veins.  I'm 

backin'  you  to  win  and  by you've  got  to  step 

lively." 

Larkin  was  smiling  as  he  got  up,  but  the  smile 
gave  place  to  a  look  of  deadly  earnestness  as  he 
leaped  suddenly  at  King  in  an  effort  to  overcome 
him  at  one  rush.  King  was  still  smiling  as  he 
braced  himself  and  received  the  full  force  of  Lar- 
kin's  rush  without  yielding  more  than  half  a  step. 
Then  as  Larkin  bent  low  to  get  a  hold,  King 
caught  him  quickly  about  the  waist  and,  lifting 
him  off  his  feet,  held  him  for  a  moment  while  he 
kicked  and  lurched  helplessly  in  an  effort  to  free 
himself.  In  another  second  he  had  Larkin  on 
the  ground  with  his  shoulders  pinned  down. 

The  whole  thing  had  not  occupied  a  minute, 
and  there  was  not  a  man  in  the  group  that  did 
not  express  his  surprise  at  the  sudden  and  unex- 
pected outcome  of  the  encounter.  King,  on  his 
part,  felt  a  strange  new  thrill  of  pleasure  as  he 
got  up  and  looked  round  at  the  men.  At  no  time 
during  his  little  set-to  with  Larkin  had  he 
doubted  his  ability  to  take  care  of  himself,  but 
the  sharp  action,  though  momentary,  had  exhil- 
arated him  and  he  was  conscious  of  the  renewed 
vigor  that  had  come  to  him  during  the  two  days 
wandering  in  the  hills. 


138      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

Back  in  the  group  of  men  stood  one  big  fel- 
low, a  Spaniard  of  powerful  build  and  hasty 
temper,  whom  no  one  in  the  gang  had  ever  pre- 
tended to  know.  There  was  a  look  in  his  eyes 
now,  however,  that  attracted  and  even  amused 
King.  Someone  else  apparently  saw  that  look  at 
the  same  moment. 

"You,  Spain,"  came  a  voice.  "Feelin'  pretty 
strong?  Get  in  there  and  stack  up.  You  and 
Howden  mate  up  pretty  close." 

"Go  on — get  in,  Spain,"  came  from  another 
quarter,  and  at  once  the  big  Spaniard,  serious  and 
struggling  to  control  his  excitement,  became  the 
centre  of  interest.  With  a  deal  of  urging,  they 
finally  got  him  to  step  out — not  very  reluctantly, 
it  seemed,  for  he  came  towards  King  rather 
eagerly. 

"I  don't  know,  young  fellow,"  he  said  seriously 
as  he  came  forward.  "By  golly,  I  t'ink  I  lika  try 
dat  for  once  anyhow." 

He  advanced  warily  and  tried  to  get  his  huge 
arms  about  King's  body.  King,  however,  avoided 
him  by  moving  back  a  step  at  a  time  about  the 
enclosure  until  the  look  of  seriousness  in  the 
Spaniard's  face  became  one  of  impatience,  and 
King  knew  that  the  moment  had  arrived  when  he 
must  close  with  his  antagonist  and  fight  it  out. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN       139 

His  decision  had  barely  been  made,  however, 
when  the  Spaniard  made  a  quick  movement  to- 
wards him  and  King  had  to  leap  to  one  side 
quickly  to  avoid  the  powerful  arms  that  came  out 
to  encircle  him.  The  movement  left  him  slightly 
in  the  rear  and  to  one  side  of  his  opponent,  and 
stepping  in  quickly  he  sent  his  arm  forward  and 
upward,  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
Spaniard's  neck  brought  his  head  down  with  a 
snap.  In  another  ten  seconds  he  had  doubled  him 
up  and  thrown  him  on  the  ground. 

When  the  Spaniard  got  to  his  feet  his  black 
eyes  were  flashing  angrily,  and  he  was  muttering 
incoherently  as  he  looked  at  King.  The  latter, 
however,  was  smiling  with  such  genuine  good  na- 
ture that  at  last  the  fire  died  in  the  black  eyes 
and  the  big  fellow  began  to  smile  at  his  own  de- 
feat. 

"By  golly,  young  fellow,"  he  said,  "I  lika  know 
dat  little  treek,  jus'  once." 

King  found  a  place  for  himself  in  the  circle  of 
men  and  moved  quietly  to  the  outside  where  he 
would  be  less  in  evidence.  The  centre  of  the 
circle  was  taken  almost  immediately  by  a  couple 
of  men  who  had  come  out  to  prove  their  prowess 
at  "squaw-wrestling." 

While  the  interest  in  the  match  was   at  its 


140    "THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

height,  King  felt  someone  touch  his  arm,  and 
looking  round,  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
Lush  Currie,  who,  with  one  finger  on  his  lips  as 
a  signal  for  silence,  was  beckoning  King  to  come 
out  of  the  crowd  and  follow  him.  King  withdrew 
at  once  without  attracting  any  attention,  and  fol- 
lowed Currie  until  he  came  up  with  him  just  a 
few  yards  off  on  the  roadway. 

When  King  had  joined  him  he  walked  along  in 
silence  for  a  short  distance,  expecting  Currie  to 
speak. 

"I  just  came  from  up  the  line,"  said  Currie  at 
last.  "I  didn't  know  you  were  here — where'd  you 
come  from?" 

King  hesitated  a  moment  before  he  replied. 
The  glimpses  he  had  caught  early  that  morning 
of  the  two  men  in  the  hills  set  him  thinking  dur- 
ing the  day,  and  he  was  determined  to  be  careful. 

"I  came  from  town,"  he  said  in  reply  to  Cur- 
rie's  question. 

"Yes—but—but  when?" 

"To-day.    Got  here  in  time  for  supper." 

"Got  here  to-night?  You  didn't  come  from 
McBain's  camp  to-day?" 

King's  reply  was  ready.  "No — I  took  another 
way  this  time.  But  what — " 

"I  think  you'd  better  put  back,"  Currie  broke 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      141 

in.  "McCartney's  got  somethin'  movin'.  Old 
Silent's  in  town — been  there  for  three  days  now 
— probably  livin'  at  Cheney's.  The  girl  went  up 
but  came  back  this  morning  without  him.  I  don't 
know  what's  doin',  but  Gabe  says  Bill's  got  some 
of  Cheney's  firewater  an'  there's  goin'  to  be 
trouble.  Gabe  was  wishin'  to-day  you'd  come 
along.  He  expected  you  back  when  the  girl  came 
and  when  you  didn't  turn  up  he  was  worried.  He 
says  the  girl's  worried  too." 

They  walked  some  distance  before  King  made 
any  comment.  At  last  he  turned  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  corral  where  he  had  put  his  horse  for 
the  night. 

"I  guess  I'll  be  gettin*  along  back,"  he  said 
quietly. 

Lush  Currie  stood  and  watched  him  until  h6 
had  vanished  in  the  darkness.  And  even  as  he 
stood  there,  the  rain  that  had  been  threatening 
all  day  began  to  fall  slowly. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

CHERRY  McBAIN  stood  in  the  open  door- 
way of  the  cabin  and  looked  out  at  the 
heavy  grey  skies  and  the  gathering  dark- 
ness. The  air  carried  a  chill  reminder  that  sum- 
mer was  coming  very  rapidly  to  a  close.  All  day 
long  there  had  been  a  cold  wind  and  scudding 
clouds  that  drifted  low  about  tEe  hill  tops,  and 
hurried  before  a  fitful  eastern  breeze  that  carried 
dashes  of  mist  and  thin  rain  with  it. 

Now  that  evening  had  come  the  wind  had  gone 
down,  but  the  drizzling  rain  was  falling  steadily 
and  monotonously,  as  it  does  when  it  sets  in  for 
a  long  downpour.  Though  it  was  still  early  even- 
ing it  was  almost  dusk,  especially  among  the 
heavy-limbed  tamaracs  where  the  cabin  stood. 
Cherry  had  lighted  the  lamp  very  early  in  an  ef- 
fort to  bring  some  little  cheer  to  the  place,  for  the 
heavy  unbroken  gloom  of  the  skies,  now  growing 
dark  with  the  coming  night,  had  filled  her  with  a 
sense  of  loneliness  from  which  she  could  not  free 
herself. 

It  was  not  merely  the  fact  that  she  was  twenty- 

143 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      143 

one  and  that  the  day  had  been  a  dull  one,  tKough 
perhaps  a  girl  of  Cherry  McBain's  temperament 
needs  no  other  excuse  for  being  melancholy.  She 
was  lonely,  more  indescribably  lonely  than  she 
had  ever  been  in  her  life  before.  The  distance 
from  happiness  to  despair  is  often  a  very  short 
one  indeed,  and  Cherry  had  gone  from  one  to 
the  other  in  what,  to  her,  was  an  incredibly  short 
time.  The  latter  weeks  of  the  summer  just 
coming  to  a  close  had  been  the  most  supremely 
happy  time  of  her  life.  But  the  last  two  or  three 
days  had  been  like  long  dreary  months  to  her.  It 
seemed  as  if  she  had  been  given  but  one  short 
glimpse  of  bright  hope  only  to  be  plunged  again 
into  deepest  darkness.  At  first  it  was  wounded 
pride  that  gave  her  pain.  She  loved  King  How- 
den — what  hurt  her  most  was  the  fact  that  she 
loved  him  still  in  spite  of  herself.  Now  that  she 
recalled  the  way  she  had  spoken  to  King,  and 
then  recalled  what  she  had  seen  when  she  came 
unexpectedly  upon  Anne  and  King  standing  to- 
gether in  the  deeper  dusk  of  the  doorway — she 
bit  her  lip  and  clenched  her  hands  in  anger  at 
herself  that  she  should  have  allowed  Herself  to 
be  such  a  fool. 

It  was  this  wounded  pride  of  hers  that  had  un- 
settled her  so  that  she  was  unable  to  play,  her 


144      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

wonted  part  when  she  had  finally  tried  to  make 
her  father  come  back  to  her.  He  had  met  her 
suggestion  with  a  stormy  outburst — worse  than 
any  he  had  ever  brought  upon  her  before — and 
she  had  broken  miserably  before  it,  and  had  left 
him  and  ridden  back  to  the  camp  alone.  What 
did  it  matter  that  she  had  walked  up  and  down 
the  crooked  street  of  The  Town  for  two  days  with 
as  firm  a  step  and  as  erect  a  bearing  as  ever? 
What  did  it  matter  that  she  had  tossed  her  head 
proudly  and  passed  Anne  without  so  much  as  a 
word  of  recognition  whenever  the  two  met?  What 
did  it  matter  that  she  had  ridden  into  camp  with 
the  same  air  of  indifference  that  she  had  always 
carried?  Others  might  not  know — and  she 
vowed  they  would  not  know — but  she  knew  that 
she  had  suffered  a  double  defeat,  and  it  hurt. 

But  Cherry  McBain  was  not  one  to  forget  her 
duty  even  in  the  hour  of  keenest  disappointment. 
Her  sense  of  defeat  had  been  partly  relieved 
during  the  day  in  the  time-honored  way  that  wo- 
men have  of  relieving  their  feelings.  Now  as  she 
stood  in  the  doorway  of  her  cabin  and  looked  out 
at  the  grey  world,  she  was  the  victim  of  a  feeling 
that  she  had  never  really  experienced  before.  She 
was  afraid. 

During  the  day  she  had  spoken  with  old  Gabe 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      145 

Smith,  who  had  come  to  get  news  from  her  of  her 
father.  A  change  had  come  over  the  camp  during 
the  past  few  days,  the  nature  of  which  had  made 
Gabe  very  anxious  to  have  Keith  McBain  back 
again  and  asserting  his  old  control.  He  did  not 
have  to  tell  Cherry  that  Bill  McCartney  was  the 
cause  of  all  the  unrest  he  had  reported  to  her. 
She  knew  the  meaning  of  it  better  than  Gabe. 
Cherry  longed  for  her  father's  return.  She  even 
upbraided  herself  for  having  left  town  without 
him. 

But  even  as  she  prayed  for  his  coming,  strange 
doubts  arose  in  her  mind  concerning  her  father's 
power  to  combat  the  hostile  forces  of  which  Mc- 
Cartney was  not  only  the  director  but  the  creator 
as  well.  She  knew,  in  short,  as  others  doubtless 
knew,  that  Keith  McBain  was  a  broken  man.  His 
power  to  break  a  man's  will  by  a  look  or  a  word 
was  almost  gone,  and  none  knew  it  so  well  as  his 
own  daughter. 

And  yet  she  wanted  him  back.  After  all,  she 
had  always  relied  upon  him  in  critical  moments 
in  the  past;  it  had  come  to  be  a  habit  with  her. 
Besides,  there  was  no  one  else  to  whom  she  could 
turn.  Old  Gabe  Smith  was  kind  and  good,  and 
would  always  help  to  the  extent  of  his  ability, 
but  after  all  he  was  of  no  more  use  than  any  other 
camp  follower  when  a  crisis  had  to  be  met. 


146      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

While  she  stood  wondering  what  best  to  do  she 
saw  Gabe  himself  coming  down  the  pathway  to- 
wards her.  All  at  once  her  mind  was  made  up. 
With  a  word  or  two  to  Gabe  she  went  back  into 
the  cabin  and  dressed  herself  preparatory  to  go- 
ing out.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was  back  again  in 
the  doorway  waiting  for  Gabe,  who  reappeared 
presently  in  the  pathway  leading  Cherry's  horse 
behind  him,  saddled  and  bridled,  ready  for  the 
road.  She  allowed  Gabe  to  help  her  into  the 
saddle,  and  then,  leaving  him  to  blow  out  the 
light  and  close  the  door,  she  set  off  to  the  trail 
and  headed  for  The  Town.  This  time  she  was 
determined  that  her  father's  will  should  be  no 
match  for  her  own.  She  would  have  her  way  with 
him,  no  matter  what  he  said,  and  he  would  re- 
turn to  camp  with  her  and  give  commands. 

No  one  saw  her  as  she  rode  through  the  camp, 
no  one,  at  least,  spoke  to  her,  and  in  a  couple  of 
minutes  she  was  safely  through  with  nothing  be- 
fore her  but  a  long  stretch  of  winding  trail  al- 
ready wet  from  the  rain.  She  went  forward  with 
great  caution  though  she  knew  every  foot  of  the 
trail  she  was  traversing,  and  urged  her  horse  only 
in  the  higher  stretches  where  the  road  was  sandy 
and  still  dry.  The  footing  was  very  uncertain 
in  spots,  and  on  account  of  the  increasing  inten- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN       147 

sity  of  the  darkness  she  was  forced  to  rely  almost 
wholly  upon  the  instincts  of  her  horse  to  guide 
her.  Fortunately  there  was  but  one  trail,  and 
that  one  was  flanked  on  either  side  by  bushes  and 
trees  and  fallen  logs  that  made  an  effective  bar- 
rier against  her  wandering  from  the  beaten  way. 
One  thing  that  caused  her  some  concern  as  she 
rode  along  was  the  fact  that  the  little  creeks  she 
had  crossed  countless  times  before,  had  crossed 
scarcely  twelve  hours  since,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
had  swollen  considerably  during  the  day.  Every 
time  she  attempted  a  fording  she  did  so  with  an 
increasing  sense  of  surprise  at  the  swirling  of  the 
water  about  her  horse's  legs.  She  knew  it  had 
been  raining  in  the  hills  during  the  day,  and  she 
had  expected  some  little  change  in  the  size  of  the 
streams,  but  nothing  so  formidable  as  the  turbu- 
lent rushing  of  these  little  creeks  had  presented 
itself  to  her  imagination.  They  were  actually 
vicious,  she  thought  to  herself,  and  once  when  the 
water  reached  her  foot  and  her  horse  stopped  a 
moment  and  leaned  against  the  current  before  he 
went  on,  she  was  more  than  a  little  anxious  for 
the  outcome  of  her  mission.  She  experienced  a 
strange  thrill  of  something  like  fear,  too,  as  she 
looked  down  at  the  water  beneath  her,  black  un- 
der the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  swirling  and 
rushing  crazily  onward  in  headlong  haste. 


148      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

She  had  been  on  the  way  for  nearly  three  hours 
when  she  came  at  last  to  the  little  ridge  overlook- 
ing White  Pine  river.  It  was  the  prospect  of  hav- 
ing to  make  this  crossing  that  gave  her  most  con- 
cern. From  the  top  of  the  ridge  she  could  see  no- 
thing in  the  pitchy  blackness  of  the  night.  Cau- 
tiously she  urged  her  horse  down  the  gentle  slope 
of  the  ridge  towards  the  river.  She  began  to  won- 
der whether  the  little  bridge  of  poles  had  been 
swept  out  by  the  current.  If  the  water  had  not 
risen  above  the  level  of  the  bridge  there  was  no 
reason  why  a  perfectly  safe  crossing  could  not  be 
made.  With  the  instinct  born  of  long  contact 
with  the  world  out-of-doors  she  strove  to  mea- 
sure the  distance  she  had  gone  since  she  left  the 
ridge  crest.  The  bridge  was  some  distance  off  yet, 
probably  fifteen  or  twenty  yards,  when  all  at  once 
she  thought  she  heard  the  sound  of  water  running 
about  her  horse's  fore-feet.  She  urged  him  for- 
ward a  little,  and  found  herself  standing  some  ten 
yards  or  so  from  the  bridge  with  the  water  rush- 
ing just  beneath  her.  Dimly  in  the  darkness  she 
could  make  out  the  form  of  the  bridge.  It  was 
still  in  its  place  with  the  water  rushing  past  at 
either  end,  though  it  had  not  gone  over  it  as  yet. 

For  a  moment  she  stopped  and  faced  the  situa- 
tion, and  the  new  problems  it  presented  to  her. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      149 

She  had  no  doubt  that  she  could  cross  the  bridge 
quite  safely  and  finish  her  trip  successfully.  But 
if  it  continued  to  rain  during  the  night,  there 
would  be  no  getting  back  again.  With  the  camp 
cut  off  from  them,  she  and  her  father  would 
simply  have  to  wait  until  the  rain  ceased  and  the 
rivers  went  down  sufficiently  to  allow  a  safe  pas- 
sage before  they  could  think  of  returning.  But 
that  was  like  enlisting  Providence  on  the  side  of 
the  devil,  for  she  knew  it  would  be  simply  playing 
into  the  hands  of  McCartney  to  leave  the  camp 
in  his  charge,  perhaps  for  days,  while  the  wet 
weather  made  it  impossible  for  the  men  to  work 
on  the  grade.  Though  she  did  not  know  what  she 
could  do  if  she  were  alone  at  the  camp,  she  felt 
intuitively  that  while  her  father  was  away  her 
duty  was  to  fill  the  place  he  had  left,  if  she  could 
do  nothing  but  stand  as  a  sort  of  symbol  of  the 
leadership  which  her  father  had  embodied. 

She  decided  to  abandon  the  trip  to  The 
Town  and  to  return  to  camp,  there  to  match 
her  wits  against  those  of  McCartney,  and 
hope  for  the  best.  The  decision  quickly  made 
was  suddenly  shaken  by  the  fear  that  her 
father  might  even  now  be  on  the  road.  As 
she  thought  of  him  attempting  to  cross  the 
White  Pine  alone  with  only  his  team  to  take 


150       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

care  of  him,  she  shrank  with  fear.  She  recalled 
the  nights  during  the  summer  when  his  team  had 
brought  him  safely  home,  though  he  himself  had 
never  known  anything  about  it  until  he  awoke 
the  next  morning.  But  good  fortune  cannot 
bring  a  man  through  everything,  and  Cherry 
knew  her  father  could  never  cross  the  White  Pine 
in  its  present  condition  and  under  the  heavy 
darkness  that  hid  everything  within  a  few  feet. 

Turning  her  horse's  head  back  she  rode  again 
up  the  slope  of  the  ridge  and  dismounted  when 
she  was  about  half  way  to  the  crest.  Here  she 
found  a  fallen  log  in  the  shelter  of  a  closely  grown 
clump  of  trees  and  sat  down.  She  was  far  enough 
from  the  river  to  hear  quite  easily  other  sounds 
than  the  rushing  of  the  water.  Above  her  the 
trees  brushed  back  and  forth  in  the  wind,  with 
boughs  rustling  and  creaking  and  moaning  in  the 
darkness.  The  sound  from  the  river  was  like 
the  low,  steady  washing  of  a  distant  surf.  Cherry 
sat  and  strained  her  ears  for  the  least  noise  from 
the  other  side  of  the  bridge.  Time  after  time  she 
started  up  at  what  she  thought  was  the  striking 
of  a  hoof  or  the  scraping  of  a  wheel  upon  a  stone. 
Once  she  got  to  her  feet  suddenly,  her  heart 
thumping  with  expectancy.  She  was  sure  she 
had  heard  her  father's  voice  in  a  gruff  word  of 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      151 

command  to  his  team.  But  although  she  stood 
with  breath  held  and  ears  strained  for  the  slight- 
est sound,  none  came,  and  she  sat  down  again, 
feeling  that  she  might  have  been  dreaming. 

When  she  at  last  arose  |x>  take  the  trail  back  to 
the  camp  it  was  past  midnight.  Nothing  had  come 
of  her  long  wait  and  she  felt  it  would  be  useless 
to  remain  longer.  No  one  would  have  allowed 
even  Keith  McBain  to  leave  town  on  such  a  night 
and  at  an  hour  that  would  make  the  trip  to  camp 
doubly  hazardous. 

But  as  she  went  over  the  top  of  the  ridge  and 
rode  along  the  trail  she  had  come  over  earlier  in 
the  night  she  began  to  estimate  the  difficulty  of 
the  problem  that  awaited  her  if  her  fears  concern- 
ing McCartney's  designs  had  any  foundation  in 
fact. 

She  knew  the  hour  must  come  sooner  or  later 
when  McCartney  would  give  up  his  policy  of 
quiet  waiting.  She  knew  something  of  his  deter- 
mination and  recklessness  of  consequences.  She 
knew  he  would  strike  when  he  thought  the  mo- 
ment most  opportune.  And  she  was  not  blind  to 
the  fact  that  the  moment  was  perhaps  at  hand. 
He  would  carry  out  his  threat  some  time — why 
should  he  not  do  so  to-night? 

Cherry  McBain  had  never  been  afraid  of  Bill 


152      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

McCartney;  she  had  usually  managed  to  meet 
him  when  the  other  men  were  around,  or  when 
her  father  was  near,  and  she  had  successfully 
avoided  anything  but  the  most  casual  passages 
between  them.  Her  chief  security  had  lain  in  the 
fact  that  she  had  always  been  on  the  best  of  terms 
with  the  men  of  her  father's  camp.  She  liked 
them  and  she  knew  they  liked  her.  But  she  did 
not  fail  to  recognize  that  McCartney's  chief  con- 
cern during  the  last  few  weeks  had  been  to  win 
for  himself  the  regard  of  the  men  and  make  them 
his  followers.  That  he  had  won  a  small  group 
through  the  fear  he  had  inspired  by  his  display 
of  brute  strength  Cherry  well  knew.  Just  how 
far  he  had  been  successful  among  the  more  inde- 
pendent men  of  the  camp  she  did  not  know.  Gabe 
Smith  had  often  spoken  to  her  about  it,  and  had 
assured  her  of  the  loyalty  of  the  great  majority 
of  tflem,  but  she  knew  that  Gabe's  judgment  on 
such  things  was  not  always  to  be  relied  upon.  It 
was  this  uncertainty  that  made  her  afraid.  She 
was  actually  afraid  for  herself.  Without  the  ac- 
tive support  of  the  men  in  her  father's  camp  she 
would  be  powerless  against  a  man  of  McCart- 
ney's temper,  to  say  nothing  of  his  size,  and  she 
dreaded  the  moment  when  he  would  step  up  and 
demand  that  she  should  do  her  part  to  make  good 
her  father's  bargain. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIX      153 

She  knew  at  any  rate  what  the  future  held  for 
her  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst.  She  would 
fight  as  long  as  she  had  strength  left  in  her  body 
and  wit  in  her  mind.  If  she  failed  at  last  it 
would  be  for  her  father's  sake,  at  least,  and  she 
would  harbour  no  regrets  and  cherish  no  grudge. 

Suddenly,  as  she  rode  along  in  deep  thought, 
she  was  awakened  from  her  dreaming  by  the  sight 
of  a  red  flare  in  the  clouded  night-sky.  It 
appeared  directly  ahead  of  her,  a  large  spot  of 
ruby  light  glowing  against  the  low  clouds.  She 
knew  what  it  meant  only  too  wrell,  but  the  fear  of 
what  its  full  meaning  might  be  sent  a  chill  to  her 
heart  as  she  looked  at  it.  Then  she  gave  her 
horse  a  sharp  cut  with  her  quirt  and  he  was  off 
at  a  mad  gallop  along  the  muddy  trail. 

The  caution  she  had  exercised  in  picking  her 
way  along  through  the  darkness  was  suddenly 
forgotten.  The  horse  would  have  to  do  the  best 
it  could  to  find  a  footing  and  keep  the  trail.  One 
thought  only  occupied  her  mind.  The  camp  was 
on  fire  and  she  must  save  it,  if  she  could  cover  the 
distance  in  time. 

About  half  an  hour  of  the  maddest  riding  she 
had  ever  done  brought  her  to  the  edge  of  the 
camp  where  the  trail  left  the  grade  and  emerged 
from  the  bushes  beside  the  corral.  In  the  middle 
of  the  camp  the  men  were  dancing  about  the 


154      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

flaming  remnants  of  what  had  been  the  cook 
camp.  It  had  been  nothing  but  a  frame  of  logs 
and  canvas,  and  had  gone  up  like  so  much  dry 
kindling  in  a  few  minutes.  What  she  saw  was 
nothing  more  than  a  heap  of  burning  debris, 
about  which  the  men  were  running  and  shouting 
like  beings  half-crazed. 

At  first  Cherry  stood  at  a  distance,  scarcely 
knowing  what  to  do.  Three  workless  days  had 
produced  the  kind  of  results  that  she  had  long 
since  learned  to  expect  in  construction  camps. 
With  McCartney  on  the  ground  she  knew  the  re- 
sults were  inevitable.  The  men  were  nearly  all 
drunk  and  many  of  them  scarcely  seemed  to 
know  what  they  were  doing. 

All  at  once  she  saw  the  swaggering  form  of 
McCartney  in  the  light  from  the  fire.  The  sight 
maddened  her  and  with  a  flash  of  her  quirt  she 
sent  her  horse  flying  into  the  crowd,  pulling  him 
back  suddenly  almost  upon  his  haunches  at  the 
very  edge  of  the  fire. 

Her  sudden  appearance  like  an  apparition  out 
of  the  night  struck  surprise  into  the  hearts  of  the 
men.  They  fell  back,  some  of  them  with  terror 
on  their  faces  as  she  struck,  first  on  one  side,  then 
on  the  other,  at  a  couple  who  approached  her  in 
threatening  attitude. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      155 

"Get  to  your  bunks,  you !"  she  cried  in  a  voice 
that  all  could  hear  and  in  a  tone  that  none  could 
mistake. 

Moving  quickly  about,  she  called  to  a  half 
dozen  men  whom  she  knew  best  and  liked,  among 
them  Gabe  Smith. 

"Stay  here  for  a  little  while,"  she  said  after  she 
had  got  them  together.  "Look  round  at  the 
store  and  the  corral  and  the  bunkhouse  to  make 
sure  there  is  no  more  danger  of  fire.  Gabe,  you 
take  charge  for  to-night,  and  get  these  men  to 
help.  Make  the  others  go  to  bed." 

In  half  an  hour  the  camp  was  in  a  state  of  com- 
parative quiet.  Nothing  was  left  of  the  cook- 
camp  but  a  heap  of  embers  smouldering  in  the 
rain  which  was  still  falling  steadily.  Cherry 
found  Gabe  in  the  bunkhouse  patiently  arguing 
with  three  or  four  of  the  men  who  had  ill-tem- 
peredly  protested  against  going  to  bed  at  the  com- 
mand of  anyone,  much  less  that  of  a  woman. 
She  called  him  out  to  her. 

"Let  them  sit  up  if  they  like,  Gabe,"  she  said 
with  a  smile.  '  "The  less  trouble  the  better.  Two 
or  three  of  you  had  better  stay  round  till  daylight 
anyhow.  I'm  going  to  the  cabin.  I'll  take  my 
horse  along  and  tether  him  under  the  tamaracs. 
If  anything  happens  let  me  know,  I'll  lie  down. 


156      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

The  lamp  will  be  lit,  and  I'll  be  ready  to  come 
out  at  once  if  you  need  me.  Some  one  must  go 
to  town  in  the  morning. 

Gabe  came  up  to  her  as  she  was  about  to  leave. 

"There's  one  thing,  my  girl,"  he  said.  "You'd 
better  not  leave  your  door  unlocked.  I  can 
knock—" 

"Don't  be  silly,  Gabe,"  she  interrupted  quickly. 
"I'm  not  afraid." 

"Well,  take  this,"  he  said,  drawing  a  revolver 
from  his  pocket  and  holding  it  towards  her. 

"Why,  Gabe,"  she  exclaimed,  laughing  at  him, 
"what  in  the  world  are  you  going  to  do  with 
that?" 

"Nothing,  I  hope,"  he  replied  a  little  sheep- 
ishly. "Lush  Currie  left  it  with  me  as  a  kind  of 
remembrance  and  I've  been  keeping  it  by  me." 

"But  you'd  never  use  it,  Gabe?" 

"No,"  he  replied  with  a  slow  smile  as  he  slipped 
it  back  again  into  his  pocket,  "but  it  does  give  a 
man  a  comfortable  feeling  to  have  it  on  him,  in 


case." 


She  bade  him  good-night  cheerfully  and  rode 
off  towards  the  cabin.  Although  she  had  been 
amused  at  what  she  thought  was  an  unnecessary 
precaution  for  Gabe  Smith  to  take,  she  could  not 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      157 

help  admitting  to  herself  that  she  shared  some- 
what in  the  feeling  of  comfort  which  the  old 
fellow  protested  was  his  chief  reason  for  carrying 
the  weapon.  She  regretted,  moreover,  that  she 
had  not  asked  him  concerning  the  whereabouts  of 
McCartney.  He  had  disappeared  suddenly  when 
she  had  come  upon  the  scene.  The  first  glimpse 
she  had  had  of  him  was  the  last,  and  she  felt  a 
little  uneasiness  at  not  knowing  where  he  had 
gone.  It  had  come  to  her  mind  frequently  dur- 
ing her  conversation  with  Gabe  that  she  should 
ask  him  to  find  McCartney  and  keep  an  eye  on 
him,  but  she  did  not  wish  the  old  man  to  know 
what  was  in  her  mind.  As  she  rode  into  the 
tamaracs,  however,  and  tethered  her  horse  in  a 
sheltered  spot,  she  wished  with  all  her  heart  that 
she  had  given  at  least  a  hint  of  her  fears  to  Gabe. 
But  perhaps  he  had  already  guessed  at  them  for 
himself — there  was  a  little  comfort  in  the  hope 
that  he  had  done  so;  and  with  this  thought  in 
her  mind  she  entered  the  cabin. 

When  she  had  lighted  her  lamp  she  looked 
about  her  to  assure  herself  that  everything  was 
just  as  she  had  left  it.  Then  she  smiled  to  her- 
self as  she  remembered  that  she  had  probably 
never  done  such  a  thing  before.  She  was  actually 
nervous  and  the  discovery  really  amused  her. 


158      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

Quickly  she  removed  her  wet  garments,  and 
having  dressed  again  in  warm,  dry  clothing,  she 
lowered  the  light  and,  drawing  a  heavy  cover 
about  her,  lay  down  on  the  couch  and  dropped  to 
sleep  almost  instantly. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

CHERRY  awoke  with  a  start  and  sat  up 
quickly,  blinking  her  eyes  in  the  dim  light 
and  struggling  to  regain  control  of  her 
senses.  Something  had  frightened  her  out  of  a 
heavy  sleep.  Now  that  she  was  awake  she 
thought  she  remembered  a  sensation  of  a  cold 
breath  of  air  on  her  cheek.  Suddenly  her  eyes 
fell  upon  a  shadowy  form  standing  beside  the 
door.  At  first  she  was  not  sure  but  that  she  had 
been  dreaming.  Gradually  her  mind  cleared, 
however,  and  she  sprang  to  her  feet  as  she  recog- 
nized the  face  of  Bill  McCartney  looking  at  her 
from  where  he  stood  with  his  hand  still  upon  the 
door-latch. 

At  the  first  sight  of  the  intruder  her  heart 
seemed  to  stop  beating  and  she  faced  him  for  a 
moment  in  silence.  Then  she  stepped  swiftly  to 
the  table  and  turned  up  the  light.  As  she  did  so 
McCartney  took  his  hand  from  the  latch  and 
turning  his  back  to  the  door  looked  at  her  stead- 
ily, smiling  and  folding  his  arms. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  Cherry  asked  in  a 

159 


160      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

voice  that  betrayed  her  nervousness  in  spite  of 
her  efforts  to  control  herself. 

McCartney  remained  silent,  answering  her 
only  with  a  smile. 

"What  have  you  come  here  for  at  this  time  of 
night?"  she  asked  again.  Her  voice  was  more 
steady  now  and  she  straightened  up  defiantly  as 
she  spoke.  "Get  out  of  here,  or  I'll  have  a  dozen 
men " 

He  took  a  step  towards  her  and  raised  his  hand 
for  silence. 

"Cherry,"  he  said,  "there  ain't  any  use  of  you 
an'  me  disagreein'.  You  know  that  just  as  well 
as  me.  I  come  here  now  because  I  want  to  tell 
you  something  you  ought  to  know  for  your  own 
good.  You  don't  let  me  talk  to  you  like  some 
others.  I've  got  to  take  my  own  way  of  doin' 
things  or  I  won't  get  them  done  at  all,  see?  You 
go  back  there  an'  sit  down.  I'm  goin'  to  talk  an' 
I  want  you  to  listen." 

He  waited  for  Cherry  to  go  back  to  the  couch 
again,  but  she  stood  motionless  by  the  table  and 
looked  at  him  for  some  time  before  she  spoke. 
She  knew  she  could  gain  nothing  by  rousing  his 
anger.  From  the  look  in  his  eyes  and  the  tone  of 
his  voice  it  was  quite  clear  that  he  had  been  drink- 
ing. If  she  vexed  him  he  might  resort  to  ugly 


tactics  in  which  she  would  be  no  match  for  him. 
Her  only  course  was  the  one  she  had  followed  for 
weeks.  She  must  fight  for  time  in  the  hope  that 
something  might  occur  before  she  would  have  to 
admit  defeat. 

"I  shall  not  sit  down  till  you  do,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  a  chair  beside  the  door. 

He  looked  behind  him  and  then  looked  at  her. 
What  he  saw  in  her  face  was  enough  to  convince 
him  that  she  was  in  earnest,  at  any  rate,  and  he 
turned  slowly,  and  going  to  the  chair,  sat  down, 
taking  his  hat  off  as  he  did  so  and  putting  it  on 
the  floor  beside  him. 

"Now,  then,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  up  at  her. 

For  reply  Cherry  moved  the  lamp  to  one  side 
in  order  that  it  might  not  obstruct  her  view  of 
McCartney  from  where  she  intended  to  sit,  and 
going  to  the  couch  from  which  she  had  risen  only 
a  few  minutes  before,  sat  down  and  waited  for 
him  to  speak. 

"You  ask  me  what  brings  me  here  so  late,"  he 
began.  "Don't  you  think  that's  a  strange  ques- 
tion to  ask  me?  You  an'  me  ain't  talked  much 
together  lately,  but  when  we  had  our  last  long 
talk  together  I  thought  you  understood  it  clear 
enough.  An'  I  don't  think  you're  the  kind  that 
forgets  easy,  either." 


162      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

Cherry  gave  a  little  shrug  of  impatience  and 
looked  away  from  him,  letting  her  eyes  rest  upon 
the  floor  at  her  feet. 

"You  asked  me  what  I  want — what  I  came 
here  for,"  he  went  on.  "Well,  what's  the  use  of 
mixin'  words?  You  know — an'  I  ain't  goin'  to 
tell  you  unless  you've  forgot.  But  listen  to  me, 
Cherry."  He  lowered  his  voice  as  he  spoke. 
"Bill  McCartney  is  the  best  friend  you've  got. 
An'  he's  the  best  friend  Keith  McBain's  got. 
Your  father's  an  old  man,  but  he's  a  wise  man 
an'  he  knows  some  things  his  daughter  can't 
understand.  You  ain't  got  a  better  friend  than 
me,  an'  the  sooner  you  get  that  straight  the  better 
off  you'll  be." 

He  paused  as  Cherry  looked  at  him  with  more 
impatience  than  before. 

"You  don't  need  to  tell  me  all  this,"  she  said. 
"I've  thought  it  all  over  a  hundred  times.  I 
want  to  know  what  you  have  come  here  for  to- 
night. The  rest  can  wait  for  some  other  time." 

The  smile  left  his  face  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
seemed  on  the  point  of  getting  up  from  his  chair. 

"Well,"  he  began,  in  a  voice  that  was  pitched 
much  higher  than  before,  "I'm  here  to  tell  you 
this  for  one  thing.  There's  a  kind  of  arrange- 
ment between  you  an'  me.  You  know  all  about 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      163 

that.  There's  goin'  to  be  trouble  for  anyone  who 
tries  to  spoil  that  arrangement.  You  under- 
stand?" 

Cherry  professed  ignorance  of  the  significance 
of  his  words. 

"Don't  tell  me  you  don't  know,"  he  protested 
quickly.  "I've  got  eyes  to  see  with,  an'  if  I  hadn't 
there's  lot's  more  that  has,  an'  it  ain't  hard  to  find 
out  what's  goin'  on.  There's  someone  breakin' 
into  my  game  an'  he's  got  to  get  out  an'  stay  out." 

"Who?"  Cherry  asked  in  a  voice  that  was  al- 
most coquettish. 

"Who?"  he  blustered.  "For  God's  sake— 
who?" 

"Yes,"  she  insisted,  "who?" 

"Howden — that's  who." 

She  did  not  show  the  slightest  disturbance,  but 
laughed  a  little  to  herself  as  she  looked  again  at 
the  floor. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you're  wrong.  King  How- 
den  and  I  are  not  even  good  friends  any  more." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise.  "That  ain't 
true,"  he  said. 

She  raised  her  eyes  quickly.  "You  have  never 
known  me  to  lie  over  anything,"  she  replied. 
"You  wouldn't  expect  me  to  lie  over  this." 

He    grunted    to    himself    and    regarded    her 


164      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

strangely.  "Then  I'm  goin'  ahead  with  that  in 
mind,"  he  said.  "Am  I  doin'  right?" 

"I  can  only  speak  for  myself,"  she  replied.  "I 
don't  know  what's  in  King  Howden's  mind." 

"I  don't  give  a  — "  He  checked  himself  in  an 
effort,  apparently,  to  be  polite.  "I  don't  worry 
about  what's  in  his  mind,"  he  said.  "I'll  look 
after  him,  an*  I'm  goin'  to  settle  with  him  my- 
self." 

He  paused  for  some  time  and  Cherry  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  pause  to  draw  about  her  shoulders 
the  cover  that  lay  on  the  couch  where  it  had  fal- 
len when  she  had  first  got  up. 

"And  is  that  all?"  she  asked. 

"That's  all  on  that — just  now,"  he  said. 
"There's  just  one  more  thing  I  want  to  say — just 
a  little  warnin'  I  want  to  give  you.  I  don't  want 
you  interferin'  with  things  in  the  camp.  That's 
no  place  for  you.  You  jumped  in  to-night  where 
you  wasn't  wanted  an'  you  got  away  with  it — 
but  it  ain't  goin'  to  happen  again." 

"But  my  father  is  away  and — " 

"That's  just  the  point,  now,"  he  broke  in.  "If 
you  just  let  things  go  along  in  their  natural  way 
nothin'  will  happen.  Everybody  knows  Keith 
McBain  ain't  goin'  to  last  for  another  year's  con- 
tractin'.  Nobody's  goin'  to  take  his  place  but  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      165 

one  that  has  a  right  to  take  it.  That's  me — all  on 
account  of  our  understandin'." 

Cherry  got  to  her  feet,  her  arms  rigid,  her 
finger-nails  biting  into  her  palms. 

"Keith  McBain  is  still  boss  of  this  camp,"  she 
said,  "and  if  you  want  to  know  it,  his  daughter, 
Cherry  McBain,  is  still  mistress  of  her  own  heart. 
It's  time  you  knew  that  you  can't  frighten  either 
of  us." 

She  was  fully  aware  of  the  hazardous  game  she 
was  playing.  So  long  as  his  conversation  turned 
upon  her  alone  she  had  been  capable  of  keeping 
her  impatience  well  under  control.  After  all,  he 
might  tire  of  a  game  in  which  he  was  no  match 
for  a  wary  opponent.  But  when  he  mentioned 
her  father's  name  she  could  stand  it  no  longer. 
The  blood  of  Old  Silent  was  hot  in  her  veins,  and 
the  fire  that  had  flashed  from  his  eyes  was  leap- 
ing now  in  her  own.  She  recalled  the  numberless 
times  when  she  had  seen  her  father  reduced  to  a 
pitiful  meekness  before  a  word  from  Bill  Mc- 
Cartney. She  had  wept  bitterly  for  the  old  man, 
broken  in  body  and  will  by  a  man  whose  only 
title  to  recognition  was  brute  force  and  the  pos- 
session of  a  life  secret.  All  the  injustice  of  it 
came  upon  her  like  a  flood.  She  would  do  no 
more  weeping.  She  would  cringe  no  more.  She 


166      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

would  fight,  whatever  the  consequences,  and 
bring  her  father  to  fight  as  well. 

McCartney  got  up  and  looked  at'her  with  his 
customary  sneer.  "You  talk  that  way  because 
you  don't  know,"  he  said  slowly,  "because  he 
ain't  here  to  stop  you.  But  I  ain't  goin'  to  be 
foolish  about  it.  When  Keith  McBain  wants  to 
fight  Bill  McCartney  he's  welcome.  But  he 
won't  fight — because  he  can't  fight.  He's  wanted 
bad  an'  he  knows  the  right  hunch  to  play.  An' 
you  ain't  goin'  to  fight  Bill  McCartney  neither, 
for  Bill  McCartney  ain't  goin'  to  fight  you.  He's 
goin'  to  love  you !" 

He  left  his  place  beside  the  chair  and  lurched 
unsteadily  towards  her.  Leaving  the  couch 
quickly,  Cherry  moved  till  she  got  the  table  be- 
tween herself  and  McCartney  and  then  looked 
at  him  steadily.  For  some  reason  her  fear,  her 
nervousness  was  gone.  She  felt  equal  to  any 
emergency,  and  quite  capable  of  matching  any 
move  he  should  make.  She  made  up  her  mind 
that  if  she  could  reach  the  door  she  would  make 
a  dash  for  the  outside  and  call  Gabe.  But  Mc- 
Cartney, dazed  though  he  was  from  drinking,  was 
sufficiently  alert  to  anticipate  any  such  move  on 
her  part,  and  was  careful  to  keep  possession  of  the 
side  of  the  table  nearest  the  door.  After  a  couple 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      167 

of  futile  attempts  on  McCartney's  part  to  reach 
Cherry,  he  stood  for  a  moment  and  looked  at  her, 
leaning  forward  with  both  hands  on  the  table. 

"There  ain't  a  bit  o'  use  in  this — an'  you  know 
it!"  he  declared,  and  for  the  first  time  since  he 
had  entered  the  cabin  his  look  was  sinister  and 
threatening.  "Do  you  want  me  to  go  out  o' 
here?" 

"I  do — get  out !"  Cherry  replied. 

"If  I  get  out,  Keith  McBain  '11  pay.  He  knows 
that,  if  you  don't." 

"You  can't  frighten  me — and  you  can't 
frighten  him.  Get  out,  1  tell  you !" 

"If  you  mean  that — "  he  straightened  up  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  he  were  about  to  leave. 

"Get  out,  I  tell  you!" 

Suddenly  his  manner  changed.  A  smile  of  con- 
tempt curled  one  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"You  damn  little  fool !"  he  sneered. 

Seizing  the  lamp  quickly  he  placed  it  on  the 
chair  behind  him,  and  with  one  movement  of  his 
powerful  arms  he  swept  the  table  to  one  side  and 
lurched  clumsily  towards  her.  Realizing  that 
she  could  not  escape,  Cherry  set  herself  to  meet 
his  rush.  As  he  put  out  his  arms  to  seize  her  she 
closed  her  hand  and  swung  with  all  the  weight  of 
her  body  at  his  face.  The  blow  went  straight  and 


quick,  so  quick  that  McCartney  recoiled  a  little 
in  surprise,  and  paused  a  moment  to  look  at  her. 
One  moment  was  enough  for  Cherry.  Before  he 
could  clearly  understand  what  had  happened  she 
had  darted  for  the  door.  Her  hand  was  on  the 
latch  before  he  came  to  himself,  and  in  another 
second  she  would  have  been  out  and  away.  But 
McCartney's  heavy  hands  clutched  her  shoulders 
as  she  was  on  the  point  of  opening  the  door,  and 
she  felt  herself  lifted  bodily  from  the  floor. 

Setting  her  upon  her  feet  at  a  safe  distance 
from  the  door  he  turned  her  round,  and  raising 
her  face,  looked  at  her  with  a  smile. 

"Ain't  you  the  little  fool !    I  thought  you  had 


sense." 


He  stopped  suddenly  and  his  hold  upon  Cherry 
relaxed. 

There  was  a  sound  of  footsteps  on  the  pathway 
outside.  Cherry  listened  with  indrawn  breath — 
the  footsteps  were  familiar.  When  they  stopped 
before  the  door  she  turned  quickly. 

"Gabe!    Gabe !"  she  called. 

The  door  opened  quickly  and  old  Gabe  stood 
in  the  doorway  and  blinked  wouderingly  as  he 
looked  into  the  cabin. 

"Put  this  man  out,  Gabe !"  Cherry  said,  quick- 
ly, breaking  away  from  McCartney,  whose  whole 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      169 

attention  was  now  on  the  old  man  who  had  come 
to  take  a  hand  in  an  affair  that  he  had  thought 
peculiarly  his  own. 

Gabe  continued  to  blink  uncertainly,  and 
seemed  to  have  difficulty  in  finding  anything  to 
say.  But  the  next  moment  the  old  man  showed 
a  surprising  quickness  of  movement.  If  he  had 
not  moved  quickly  McCartney  would  have  been 
upon  him.  Stepping  back  suddenly  through  the 
open  doorway  into  the  darkness  outside  he 
avoided  the  kick  that  the  big  foreman  aimed  at 
him.  But  before  McCartney  could  recover  him- 
self to  close  the  door,  Gabe  had  leaped  back  into 
the  light  again,  only  this  time  he  was  prepared  to 
take  the  aggressive. 

In  his  right  hand  he  held  Lush  Currie's  "re- 
membrance," the  light  from  the  lamp  glinting  on 
the  polished  steel.  Gabe's  hand  shook  so  percept- 
ibly that,  in  spite  of  the  critical  situation  all  three 
were  facing,  Cherry  had  all  she  could  do  to  keep 
from  laughing.  But  if  Gabe's  hand  shook,  his 
eyes  were  steady  and  it  was  Gabe's  eye  that  Mc- 
Cartney watched. 

"Now,  Bill,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  expressed 
grim  determination  even  if  it  was  a  little  thin, 
"you  git  out — an'  move  damn  quick !" 

Cherry  watched  the  men  closely  for  a  moment 


170      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

while  McCartney  stood  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot 
from  sheer  surprise  at  the  old  man's  nerve.  That 
moment  was  like  an  hour  to  Cherry.  She  did  not 
think  Gabe  would  actually  carry  out  what  he 
threatened  if  his  commands  were  not  obeyed  to 
the  last  syllable,  but  there  was  a  note  in  his  voice 
that  was  new  to  her.  It  meant  simply  that  Gabe 
Smith  would  stand  for  no  trifling. 

The  next  moment,  however,  brought  relief. 
McCartney  moved  round  towards  the  door  and 
Gabe  circled  away  from  it  very  cautiously.  By 
the  time  McCartney  had  reached  the  doorway 
Cherry  was  ready  to  laugh  at  the  whole  perfor- 
mance. When  he  turned  sulkily  and  stepped 
quickly  out,  followed  by  Gabe,  who  waited  a  mo- 
ment in  the  doorway  before  he  came  back  into  the 
cabin  and  closed  the  door  again  behind  him,  she 
did  laugh. 

Gabe  stood  and  looked  at  her  in  silence  and 
surprise  until  she  was  through  laughing,  and  then 
sat  down. 

"Gabe,  you  dear  old  silly !"  she  said,  going  over 
to  him.  "You  might  have  hit  me — or  even  your- 
self if  you  had  put  that  thing  off !" 

Gabe  made  no  reply.  He  was  too  serious,  too 
much  occupied,  perhaps,  with  the  importance  of 
the  thing  he  had  done  and  the  things  it  would 
probably  lead  to  in  the  very  near  future. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      171 

The  new  day  had  already  begun  to  dawn  when 
Gabe  finally  stole  quietly  out  of  the  cabin  and 
took  his  way  down  the  path.  He  had  left  Cherry 
sleeping  soundly  and  was  himself  very  weary 
after  his  night's  vigil.  But  he  knew  a  full  day 
awaited  him,  and  he  was  determined  to  face  it 
with  as  much  courage  as  his  old  heart  could 
muster. 

Countless  times  that  night  he  had  prayed  in- 
wardly for  help  from  somewhere.  Even  now,  as 
he  plodded  wearily  from  the  cabin  to  the  trail,  he 
was  muttering  something  to  himself  that  might 
have  passed  for  a  petition  to  the  Heavenly 
Powers. 

And  as  if  in  answer  to  his  prayerful  mutterings, 
there  came  trudging  heavily  towards  him  round 
the  bend  in  the  trail  just  where  it  left  the  trees 
and  entered  the  camp,  a  man  leading  a  horse  by 
the  bridle  rein  and  followed  by  a  tired-looked 
dog. 

"King,  boy!"  cried  Gabe,  and  could  say  no 
more. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

KING'S  first  enquiry  was  concerning  Cherry. 
For  reasons  which  were  perhaps  his  own, 
Gabe  made  no  reference  to  what  had  oc- 
curred in  the  cabin  during  the  night,  and  after 
briefly  assuring  him  that  she  was  all  right,  has- 
tened to  ask  King  where  he  had  been  and  how 
he  had  come  to  put  in  an  appearance  so  unex- 
pectedly. 

King,  in  his  turn,  simply  smiled  at  the  old 
man's  curiosity,  and  asked  Gabe  to  get  him  some- 
thing to  eat  at  once.  Gabe  met  the  request  by 
pointing  to  the  pile  of  smoking  ashes  that  now 
lay  where  the  cook-camp  had  stood.  King  made 
no  effort  to  conceal  his  surprise.  As  a  result  of 
Currie's  warning  of  the  night  before,  he  was  pre- 
pared to  meet  difficulty  on  arriving  at  the  camp. 
He  had  not  lived  for  the  best  part  of  his  life  in 
camps  without  knowing  something  of  what  a  man 
of  McCartney's  type  could  do  if  he  were  given  a 
free  hand  with  a  gang  of  men.  He  was  prepared 
to  find  the  men  carousing  and  perhaps  fighting 
among  themselves.  He  expected  to  find  the  camp 

172 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      173 

in  a  state  of  general  excitement.  But  the  heap  of 
smouldering  ashes  was  a  concrete  result  that  he 
scarcely  expected. 

He  looked  for  a  few  moments  at  the  smoke 
rising  from  the  ashes  and  then  turned  to  Gabe 
with  a  questioning  look  in  his  eyes.  Gabe's  reply; 
was  brief  but  effective. 

"Bill  McCartney,"  he  said. 

When  King  had  questioned  him  fully  and  had 
learned  all  the  details  of  the  trouble  that  had  cul- 
minated in  the  burning  of  the  cook-camp,  he  went 
with  Gabe  to  the  camp-store  and  awakened  the 
timekeeper,  who  opened  the  door  very  warily  at 
first,  until  he  was  satisfied  that  the  early  morning 
visitors  had  no  design  upon  his  person,  nor  any 
upon  his  stores  either  except  what  might  be  ex- 
pected of  two  very  hungry  men. 

And  for  the  next  two  hours  or  more  the  two 
men  held  council  seated  upon  a  couple  of  pack- 
ing boxes,  and  laid  their  plans  for  the  day.  Nor 
were  the  plans  easy  to  make.  There  were  many 
things  to  be  done  at  once  if  the  work  that  Bill 
McCartney  had  started  was  to  be  undone  before 
it  was  too  late.  They  went  carefully  over  the 
names  of  the  camp-followers,  using  the  pass-book 
of  the  timekeeper  for  a  guide,  and  divided  the 
men  roughly  into  two  groups,  one  composed  of 


174      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

those  to  whom  they  could  appeal  for  assistance 
and  the  other  of  the  men  who  had  probably  been 
won  over  to  the  side  of  McCartney.  This  task 
was  not  a  difficult  one,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to 
organize  their  dozen  qr  so  of  picked  men  so  that 
they  could  effectively  do  the  work  that  would 
have  to  be  done  during  the  day. 

In  the  first  place  Keith  McBain  must  be 
brought  from  town.  Both  King  and  Gabe  were 
firmly  of  the  opinion  that  Keith's  presence  would 
at  once  bring  the  men  to  their  senses.  They  be- 
lieved, moreover,  that  McCartney  would  back 
down  when  called  upon  to  face  Old  Silent.  King 
determined  that  they  should  wait  until  the  after- 
noon, with  the  hope  that  the  old  contractor  might 
come  back  of  his  own  accord.  In  case  he  did  not 
put  in  an  appearance,  King  decided  that  he  should 
go  himself  to  town  while  there  was  yet  light 
enough  to  make  travelling  easy.  The  rain  had 
stopped  during  the  night,  and  although  the  sky 
was  still  heavy  the  clouds  were  showing  signs  of 
breaking. 

In  the  event  of  King  having  to  go  finally  for 
Keith  McBain,  the  care  of  the  camp  was  to  be 
left  in  the  hands  of  old  Gabe  and  the  few  men 
they  had  picked  to  help  him.  King  insisted  upon 
special  provision  being  made  to  the  end  that  no 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      175 

harm  should  befall  Cherry,  and  that  the  cabin 
among  the  tamaracs  should  be  left  unmolested. 

By  the  time  they  had  perfected  their  plans  and 
were  ready  to  go  out  to  put  them  into  effect,  the 
sun  was  already  well  above  the  horizon,  and 
when  they  stepped  out  of  the  narrow  doorway  it 
was  under  a  sky  in  which  ragged  edges  of  clouds 
were  torn  apart  and  changed  to  silver  where  the 
long  shafts  had  broken  through.  The  day  was 
dawning  full  of  promise  at  any  rate,  and  both 
men  felt  its  influence  strike  them  as  they  turned 
and  walked  down  the  trail. 

As  matters  turned  out,  the  day  passed  so 
quietly  that  both  King  and  Gabe  were  surprised. 
During  the  morning  scarcely  anyone  stirred  in 
camp,  most  of  the  men  making  good  their  op- 
portunity to  sleep  off  the  effects  of  the  night  be- 
fore. Three  times  King  strolled  off  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  cabin  to  watch  for  the  first  indication 
that  Cherry  was  moving  about.  Not  until  it  was 
noon,  however,  did  he  see  the  smoke  rising  from 
the  pipe  that  served  as  a  chimney  and  stuck  out 
from  under  the  roof  at  one  end  of  the  cabin. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  go  down  and  see 
Cherry  at  once.  He  wanted  to  talk  to  her  about 
the  affairs  of  the  camp,  and  he  hoped  he  might 
have  an  opportunity  to  explain  the  misunder- 


176      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

standing  that  existed  between  them.  On  second 
thought,  however,  he  decided  to  get  Gabe  to  go 
with  him  and  to  confine  whatever  conversation 
they  might  have  to  the  business  they  had  in 
hand. 

Accordingly  the  two  men  went  to  the  cabin  to- 
gether early  in  the  afternoon  to  acquaint  Cherry 
of  the  plans  they  had  laid.  She  was  standing 
outside  among  the  tamaracs  when  they  arrived. 
King  noticed  that  her  greeting,  while  courteous, 
was  without  any  enthusiasm.  They  went  into  the 
house  and  sat  down. 

"We  have  some  help,  Cherry,"  Gabe  said  when 
they  had  seated  themselves. 

"So  I  see,"  she  responded  without  concern. 

Gabe,  however,  was  probably  unaware  of  any 
change  in  Cherry's  manner.  The  change  was 
meant  for  King  and  it  was  not  lost  upon  him.  He 
sat  silently  listening  to  Gabe  and  Cherry  while 
they  discussed  plans. 

Only  once  did  Cherry  show  anything  of  her 
usual  manner,  and  that  was  when  Gabe  men- 
tioned the  fact  that  King  was  about  to  start  for 
town  to  get  her  father. 

"I  was  just  getting  ready  to  do  that  myself," 
she  protested. 

"I  think  King  had  better  go,"  Gabe  insisted. 
"Of  course,  if  you  would  like  to  go  along — ." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      177 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  "it  isn't  necessary.  Be- 
sides you  might  need  some  more  help  here, 
Gabe." 

She  smiled  at  the  recollection  of  what  had  oc- 
curred the  night  before. 

"Yes — we  might  need  you  here,"  Gabe  mused, 
as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself.  "I  was  just 
thinkin'  that  things  were  so  quiet  now  that  per- 
haps I  could  get  along  alone." 

"No,  Gabe,"  said  Cherry,  "one  will  be  enough 
to  go  for  father.  I'll  stay  in  the  camp." 

A  few  minutes  later  when  the  two  men  were 
walking  down  the  pathway  towards  the  camp 
Gabe  looked  oddly  at  King. 

"There's  something  gone  the  matter  with  that 
girl,"  he  said.  "She  ain't  like  she  always  is." 

"Perhaps  it's — her  father,"  King  suggested, 
but  Gabe  made  no  immediate  response  to  the  sug- 
gestion. 

"No,  it  ain't  her  father,"  he  said  after  a  few 
minutes.  "She  was  as  much  worried  over  her 
father  last  night  as  she  is  to-day.  There's  some- 
thing else." 

King  did  not  offer  any  further  suggestions  and 
the  two  walked  along  in  silence  for  some  little 
distance.  At  last  Gabe  stopped  abruptly. 

"Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,"  he  said  suddenly, 
"what  the  devil  was  wrong  with  you?  You 


ain't  seen  her  for  days  and  yet  you  sat  there  all 
that  time  without  speakin'  a  word." 

The  smile  that  started  to  King's  face  vanished 
suddenly.  "Gabe,  there's  little  chance  for  us  to 
understand  a  woman,"  he  said  slowly.  "I  never 
could — they  were  always  strange  to  me." 

"I  ain't  thinkin'  just  now  about  her  ways," 
Gabe  replied  with  a  directness  that  he  never 
achieved  except  when  he  was  very  excited  or  very 
much  in  earnest.  "It's  you — your  way  ain't  what 
it  always  is." 

"I  guess  you're  right,  Gabe,"  King  replied. 
"There's  been  something — just  a  misunderstand- 
ing— that's  all." 

Gabe  whistled  to  himself — a  very  long,  low 
whistle. 

Dinner  was  served  in  camp  that  day  very  much 
as  usual,  with  the  exception  that  tables  had  to  be 
set  in  the  bunk-house.  The  supply  of  dishes  was 
not  all  that  might  have  been  desired,  but  the 
cook's  ingenuity  and  the  exigencies  of  the  occa- 
sion in  which  there  was  at  least  a  little  humour, 
did  much  to  make  the  dinner  hour  almost  as 
pleasant  as  it  had  ever  been.  The  supply  of  eat- 
ables was  ample,  with  plenty  still  to  spare  in  the 
store.  And  although  nothing  was  said  about  it 
there  was  a  tacit  recognition,  and  it  was  pretty 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      179 

general  too,  that  the  men  had  King  to  thank  for 
the  fact  that  the  first  meal  served  since  the  burn- 
ing of  the  cook-camp  was  ample  and  well- 
ordered,  even  if  it  did  come  two  hours  late. 

It  was  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  before  King 
got  away.  With  anything  like  good  luck  in  tra- 
velling he  hoped  he  might  reach  town  before  dusk 
and  if  the  roads  were  in  a  condition  that  made  his 
return  possible  that  night  he  would  be  on  his 
way  back  again  by  dawn  the  next  day.  He  hoped 
that  he  might  be  able  to  return  again  that  night. 

His  hopes  were  not  encouraged,  however,  as  he 
rode  along.  The  trail  was  in  bad  shape  and  the 
rivers  had  not  yet  begun  to  go  down.  A  wish  he 
had  entertained  when  he  set  out,  that  he  might 
perhaps  meet  Keith  McBain  somewhere  along 
the  way,  changed  quickly  to  a  fear  lest  the  old 
man  should  have  set  out  by  himself  and  have  met 
disaster  on  the  way.  For  he  knew  that  if  the  old 
contractor's  home-coming  on  this  occasion  was 
anything  like  it  had  been  on  other  occasions, 
there  was  only  one  chance  in  a  thousand  that  he 
would  get  through. 

There  was  still  more  than  an  hour  of  daylight 
left  when  he  reached  the  White  Pine  River.  The 
water  had  risen  until  now  it  was  running  over 
the  bridge  in  the  middle  where  the  logs  that  had 


180      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

been  thrown  across  for  main  supports  sagged 
most.  The  bridge  itself,  however,  was  still  intact. 
The  embankments  that  had  been  thrown  up  at 
either  end  were  still  visible  and  appeared  to  offer 
good  footing,  although  King  knew  that  the  sub- 
merged roadway  leading  away  from  the  bridge- 
head on  either  side  was  washed  away  by  the 
current.  The  only  question  that  gave  him  any 
concern  was  whether  or  not  the  poles  that  did  ser- 
vice for  the  bridge  planking  were  still  in  their 
places.  So  far  as  he  could  see  not  one  of  them 
had  moved  out  of  place.  Altogether  he  felt  sure 
that  the  crossing  was  worth  trying  at  any  rate. 
The  distance  was  not  great,  and  if  the  worst 
should  happen  he  was  confident  of  his  ability  to 
bring  himself  safely  to  shore  somewhere  down 
stream.  The  attempt  to  cross  was  not  to  be  made 
recklessly,  at  any  rate,  and  getting  down  from  his 
horse  King  made  as  careful  a  survey  of  the  con- 
ditions as  he  could  on  foot.  When  he  had  looked 
the  place  over  thoroughly  and  considered  the 
different  emergencies  that  might  arise  and  what 
he  should  do  to  meet  each,  he  got  back  again  into 
the  saddle,  and  turning  his  horse  towards  the 
bridge-head  urged  him  forward  gently. 

The  horse  stepped  down  very  cautiously  into 
the  water,  proceeded    a    few   yards — and    then 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      181 

stopped.  The  water  was  almost  up  to  animal's 
flanks  now  and  was  rushing  past  in  a  dizzy  whirl 
that  made  the  horse  tremble  in  every  muscle  and 
limb.  The  dog  was  still  standing  with  two  front 
paws  in  the  water,  whining  and  yelping.  For  a 
moment  King  waited  to  reconsider  what  he  had 
planned.  He  felt  almost  like  turning  back  and 
taking  the  affairs  of  the  camp  arbitrarily  into  his 
own  hands  until  Keith  McBain  turned  up  of  his 
own  accord.  But  in  that  moment  of  hesitation 
something  happened  that  decided  the  whole  ques- 
tion for  him  at  once. 

Above  the  rushing  of  the  water  he  heard  the' 
sound  of  wheels  striking  against  stones,  and  look- 
ing up  he  saw  Keith  McBain's  horses  coming  on 
the  run  towards  him,  the  buckboard  jumping 
along  behind  them  and  rocking  from  side  to  side 
in  the  trail — empty.  When  the  team  came  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  stream,  King  shouted  to  them 
and  they  stopped  suddenly,  but  not  before  they 
had  plunged  half  way  to  the  bridge-head  and 
stood  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  current  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bridge.  For  a  moment  only, 
they  stood  and  looked  at  King  and  then  wheeling 
about,  and  carried  by  the  weight  of  the  flood, 
plunged  back  again  out  of  the  water  and  into  the 
poplars  that  stood  at  the  side  of  the  trail.  There 


182      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

they  were  brought  to  a  standstill  in  a  tangle  of 
branches  and  underbrush. 

All  thought  of  turning  back  was  now  impos- 
sible for  King.  Somewhere  along  the  trail  that 
lay  ahead  Keith  McBain  was  probably  lying  in- 
jured at  least,  perhaps  unconscious,  possibly 
dead.  A  word  to  his  horse  and  they  plunged 
into  the  stream,  at  first  quickly,  then  more  care- 
fully as  the  water  became  deeper.  Once  or  twice 
when  the  footing  became  uncertain  King  got 
ready  to  dismount  and  hold  to  the  horn  of  the 
saddle  with  one  hand  while  the  horse  brought  him 
to  safety,  but  he  realized  that  his  own  weight 
helped  the  horse  to  keep  its  feet.  Then  suddenly 
the  ground  seemed  to  give  way  under  them,  and 
he  swung  his  leg  over  and  slipped  into  the  water. 
Just  as  he  did  so  the  horse  gave  a  mad  plunge  for- 
ward and  King  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  his 
hold  upon  the  saddle.  But  in  that  one  leap  the 
animal  found  fresh  footing  and  the  next  moment 
was  standing  upon  the  bridge-head  with  King 
beside  him. 

King  looked  back  just  in  time  to  see  Sal  jump 
into  the  water  and  come  paddling  towards  him. 
But  the  current  was  too  much  for  the  dog.  In 
spite  of  King's  whistling  and  calling  to  her  by 
way  of  encouragement,  she  was  carried  down- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      183 

stream  past  the  embankment  and  King  watched 
her  with  grave  doubts  rising  in  his  mind.  Where 
the  stream  took  a  quick  turn  to  the  right  King 
lost  sight  of  the  dog  among  partly  submerged 
tree-trunks,  but  in  a  moment  he  heard  her  bark 
echoing  through  the  woods  and  before  long  she 
was  standing  on  the  trail  beside  him,  shaking  her- 
self and  yelping  at  him. 

The  next  stage  of  the  crossing  was  no  less  un- 
certain, but  King  walked  ahead  and  led  his  horse, 
trying  every  pole  with  his  foot  to  see  that  it  was 
secure  before  he  went  forward.  At  the  middle  of 
the  bridge  the  water  was  almost  to  his  knees  and 
the  force  of  the  current  was  so  great  that  King 
marvelled  that  the  bridge  held  against  it. 

When  he  came  at  last  to  the  end  of  the  bridge 
he  sent  the  horse  in  and  walked  along  beside  him 
with  his  hand  on  the  horn  of  the  saddle.  The 
passage  proved  easier  than  before  and  presented 
no  special  difficulty. 

Having  shaken  the  water  from  his  clothes, 
King  left  his  horse  standing  in  the  trail  and  went 
to  extricate  Keith  McBain's  team  from  the 
woods.  The  task  was  not  so  difficult  as  he  had 
anticipated,  for  although  the  horses  were  excited 
and  nervous  they  seemed  almost  exhausted  and 
allowed  King  to  move  about  them  without  show- 


184:       THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

ing  any  ill  temper.  In  less  than  fifteen  minutes 
he  had  unhitched  them  and  led  them  out  upon 
the  trail,  where  he  tethered  them  securely  in  a 
sheltered  place  under  cover  of  a  clump  of  poplars. 
Then  he  brought  the  badly  shaken  buckboard  out 
and  left  it  standing  beside  the  trail. 

This  done,  he  adjusted  the  girths  of  his  own 
horse,  and  getting  into  the  saddle  went  off  at  a 
gallop.  There  was  still  almost  an  hour  of  day- 
light left  in  which  to  find  Keith  McBain,  bring 
him  back,  and  recross  the  White  Pine.  The 
knowledge  that  he  might  have  to  go  most  of  the 
way  to  town  before  he  should  find  the  old  man, 
and  the  fact  that  Keith  McBain  was  in  all  proba- 
bility lying  in  a  helpless  condition  with  body 
battered  and  bones  broken,  made  King  urge  his 
horse  forward  as  fast  as  the  slippery  trail  would 
allow. 

Fortunately,  however,  he  had  not  far  to  go. 
Mounting  a  little  hill  that  he  remembered  quite 
well  from  having  stood  there  in  the  evening  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  valley  below  with  its  little 
stream  of  water  and  its  wild  meadows,  King 
thought  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices.  When  he 
got  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  looked  down,  he  was 
surprised  to  see  the  figure  of  a  girl  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  trail  and  waving  to  him.  It 
was  Anne. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      185 

In  a  moment  he  was  beside  her  and  was  follow- 
ing her  on  foot  to  where  Keith  McBain  was  lying 
upon  the  ground. 

"Is  he  hurt?"  King  asked  at  once  as  he  looked 
at  the  old  man. 

"Not  much — nothing  serious,  I  think,"  Anne 
replied. 

Keith  McBain  turned  his  head  and  looked  at 
King  at  the  sound  of  a  new  voice.  He  seemed  on 
the  point  of  speaking  but  simply  shook  his  head 
a  little,  and  then  with  a  great  deal  of  effort 
propped  himself  up  on  one  elbow  and  regarded 
King  very  thoughtfully. 

"It's  me — King  Howden — Mr.  McBain,"  King 
said. 

"I  know — that's  all  right,"  was  the  reply. 
"Get  me  out  of  here — I've  got  to  get  back — I've 
got  to  get  to  the  camp — and  I've  got  to  get  back 
to  my  girl." 

He  dropped  his  eyes  as  if  he  were  looking  him- 
self over.  Then  he  looked  at  King  again. 

"Is  she  all  right?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  sir — everything's  all  right,"  King  re- 
plied ;  "only  we  must  get  you  back." 

"Everything?"  the  old  man  asked,  coming 
suddenly  to  himself  again,  speaking  in  his  sharp, 
direct  way.  "Who  asked  about  everything? 

M 


186      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

WEat  the  hell  do  I  care  about  everything?  I 
want  to  know  about  my  girl." 

"She's  all  right,  Mr.  McBain,"  King  assured 
him  again. 

"That's  right,  eh?    Howden,  don't  lie  to  me!" 

King  smiled  and  put  his  arm  under  the  old 
man  to  raise  him  to  a  more  comfortable  position. 

"Where's  McCartney?"  he  asked  as  soon  as 
King  had  made  him  comfortable. 

"He's  at  the  camp,  sir,"  King  said,  and  he 
guessed  something  of  what  was  passing  in  Keith 
McBain's  mind. 

"Then  get  me  out  of  here — I've  got  to  get  back 
there.  I've  been  too  long  away — altogether  too 
long.  But  something  happened — the  dirty 
crooks.  Here — get  me  up." 

King  and  Anne  got  him  to  his  feet  and  helped 
him  out  to  the  trail,  where  he  stood  for  a  moment 
and  looked  about  him. 

'What's  wrong  here?"  he  asked  when  he  had 
looked  round  at  the  roadway  and  the  woods. 
"Where's  my  team?  Didn't  I  leave  them  here  a 
minute  ago?  Where  are  they?  Anne,  bring  the 
team." 

Anne  looked  at  King.  "He  doesn't  know 
wEat's  happened  to  him,"  she  said. 

"I've  got  the  team  waiting  for  you  down  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      187 

trail  a  little,"  King  replied.  "You'll  have  to  get 
up  here  and  ride." 

Without  murmuring  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
lifted  into  the  saddle.  King,  with  Anne  walking 
beside  him,  helped  him  to  keep  his  seat,  and  to- 
gether the  three  went  back  the  way  King  had 
just  come. 

Only  twice  did  Keith  McBain  speak  a  word 
along  the  way.  Once  he  addressed  Anne. 
"You're  a  good  girl,  Anne,"  he  said. 

A  little  later  he  leaned  and  touched  King's 
shoulder.  "My  boy,"  he  said,  nodding  his  head 
towards  Anne,  "she  got  me  out  of  this." 

And  in  the  meantime  Anne  was  recounting  for 
King  the  circumstances  that  had  led  her  to  bring 
Keith  McBain  away  from  town. 

"There's  something  crooked  about  it,"  she  told 
King.  "That  scrub  Rickard  came  to  town  the 
same  day.  He's  been  hangin'  round  ever  since — 
keepin'  Old  Silent  under  his  eye.  But  the  old 
fellow  seemed  to  catch  on  that  he  was  not  goin' 
to  have  his  little  time  all  alone,  and  he  came  to  me 
last  night  and  says,  'Anne,  I  want  to  go  back  in 
the  morning.  No  matter  what  happens,'  he  said, 
'no  matter  what  I  say  about  it,  take  me  back,  will 
you?  Promise  that!'  I  promised  and  he  took 
my  hand.  Then  he  went  out.  Late  last  night 


Mike  Cheney  and  Rickard  brought  him  in  and 
put  him  to  bed.  When  I  went  to  wake  him  this 
morning  I  couldn't  get  him  to  answer.  I  opened 
the  door  and  he  was  lyin' — dead  to  the  world.  I 
didn't  say  anything  to  the  house.  I  just  worked 
him  out  of  it  myself  and  when  he  came  back  a 
little  I  went  out  and  got  the  team.  Old  Hurley 
came  and  helped  me  till  we  got  started  away. 
Hurley  didn't  like  the  idea,  but  I  told  him  what 
he'd  told  me  the  night  before,  and  he  didn't  say 
anything  against  it.  We  slipped  out  without 
anyone  knowin'  about  it  and  was  gettin'  on  great 
until  we  come  to  high  water  back  there  under  the 
hill  where  you  found  us.  The  team  had  been 
skittish  all  the  way,  but  the  high  water  put  them 
up  in  the  air,  and  I  just  couldn't  hold  'em  and 
look  after  the  old  man  too.  It  might  'a'  been  all 
right  at  that,  but  we  hit  something  in  the  road 
and  he  rolled  out.  I  did  everything  I  could,  but 
the  team  was  runnin'  their  fool  heads  off  and  I 
couldn't  stop  'em.  So  I  got  over  the  seat  and 
dropped  off  behind  and  let  them  go.  Then  I  went 
back  and  found  him  lyin'  beside  the  trail.  I 
thought  he  was  dead,  for,  honest  to  God,  he  look- 
ed it.  But  I  rolled  him  over  and  got  him  lyin'  out 
flat  and  was  workin'  over  him  when  I  heard  you 
comin'.  That's  all  there  is  to  it." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      189 

It  had  already  begun  to  grow  dusk  when  they 
came  to  the  White  Pine  crossing.  Leaving  Keith 
McBain  in  Anne's  care  for  the  time  being,  King 
busied  himself  with  preparations  for  getting  to 
the  other  side.  Though  he  had  been  gone  only  a 
little  more  than  an  hour  he  was  gratified  to  find 
that  the  water  had  receded  considerably — as  is 
the  way  with  mountain  streams  where  the  source 
is  only  a  few  miles  off — and  the  surface  of  the 
bridge  was  almost  clear. 

Quickly  hitching  the  team  to  the  buckboard, 
King  gave  the  reins  to  Anne  and  told  her  to  get 
up  on  the  seat.  Then,  helping  Keith  McBain  to 
dismount,  he  led  him  to  a  place  where  he  could 
sit  down  and  wait.  Mounting  his  own  horse,  he 
took  hold  of  a  short  tethering  rope  fastened  to 
the  bit  of  one  of  McBain's  team,  and  led  the  way 
with  emphatic  warnings  to  the  girl  to  hang  on. 
The  passage  was  not  a  difficult  one  for  King,  al- 
though it  had  now  grown  dusk.  His  horse 
managed  to  keep  his  feet  in  the  current,  though 
once  or  twice  he  seemed  to  have  all  he  could  do. 
For  Anne  the  crossing  must  have  been  almost 
nerve-shattering — but  she  never  spoke  a  word 
until  they  were  safely  across.  Then  she  got  down 
from  the  seat  and  stepped  up  to  where  King  was 
tethering  the  team.  She  looked  at  her  dripping 


190      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

clothes  and  then  at  the  stream  rushing  past  in  the 
thickening  darkness. 

"Are  you  goin'  back  there  again?"  she  asked. 

King  grunted  an  affirmative. 

"Go  ahead — I'll  do  the  prayin',"  she  replied. 

A  few  minutes  later  King  was  beside  Keith 
McBain,  helping  him  into  the  saddle.  When  he 
got  him  up  he  bound  him  securely  to  the  seat 
and  tied  his  feet  so  that  they  could  not  come  out 
of  the  stirrups.  Then  he  sent  the  horse  in  and 
walked  alongside,  his  hand  on  the  saddle  horn. 
The  crossing  was  made  without  accident  of  any 
kind  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  ready  for 
the  road,  Anne  mounted  in  the  saddle,  and  King 
seated  in  the  buckboard  with  Keith  McBain  be- 
side him.  At  a  sharp  whistle  from  King,  Sal 
started  from  the  bushes  beside  the  trail  and  all 
set  off  together. 

A  couple  of  hours  later,  as  they  drove  through 
the  camp  on  the  way  to  Keith  McBain's  cabin, 
King  noticed  two  dark  figures  on  horseback  rid- 
ing into  camp  from  the  opposite  direction.  As 
they  passed  him  he  looked  them  over  very  care- 
fully. Though  it  was  too  dark  to  see  clearly  who 
the  men  were,  King's  mind  naturally  reverted  to 
the  two  riders  he  had  seen  in  the  hills  early  in  the 
marning  of  the  day  before. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      191 

And  right  there  he  decided  that  Anne  had  been 
sent  by  heaven  in  a  time  of  need.  He  would  send 
her  back  next  day  with  full  instructions  to  old 
man  Hurley  to  register  the  claim  in  the  hills — if 
necessary  under  Anne's  signature. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

FIVE  minutes  later  King  and  Anne  stood 
before  the  door  of  the  cabin,  one  on  each 
side  of  Keith  McBain.  The  door  was 
closed,  but  there  was  a  light  within  and  the  sound 
of  someone  talking.  King  was  about  to  knock 
when  the  old  man  put  his  hand  out  abruptly  and 
pressing  the  latch  pushed  the  door  open. 

"Cherry,  girl!"  he  called. 

In  a  moment  Cherry  was  facing  them,  with  her 
hands  out  to  her  father,  the  form  of  old  Gabe 
Smith  crowding  into  the  doorway  beside  her. 
Gabe  apparently  did  not  see  that  Keith  McBain 
was  not  alone,  and  expressed  his  eagerness  to 
assist  his  old  boss. 

"Wait,  sir,"  he  said,  moving  Cherry  to  one  side 
as  he  came  forward,  "I'll  give  you  a  hand." 

"Get  out  of  the  way,"  commanded  Keith  Mc- 
Bain in  a  voice  that  was  very  much  like  his  own. 
"I  don't  need  your  help." 

Gabe  had  seen  King  and  Anne  and  had  al- 
ready stepped  back  into  the  cabin  with  Cherry. 

192 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      193 

The  old  contractor  lifted  his  chest,  steadied  him- 
self a  little,  and  then  shook  his  shoulders  impa- 
tiently to  be  rid  of  the  support  that  Anne  and 
King  were  giving  him.  Then  he  stepped  reso- 
lutely up  and  entered  the  doorway.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  hesitated  and  looked  straight  before  him 
into  the  room,  and  then  walked  deliberately  to- 
wards the  couch.  King  and  Anne  stood  just  in- 
side the  doorway  and  watched  him  as  he  made 
his  way  uncertainly  across  the  floor.  Cherry  was 
beside  him  all  the  way,  offering  to  help  him,  but 
he  gave  her  not  the  slightest  heed.  When  at  last 
he  reached  the  couch  he  turned  and  was  in  the 
act  of  seating  himself  when  his  legs  seemed  to 
give  way  under  him  and  he  collapsed  in  a  heap. 
They  lifted  him  quietly  and  laid  him  on  the 
couch.  For  a  long  time  he  was  silent  and  no 
one  in  the  room  spoke.  Finally  he  looked  about 
him  until  his  eyes  fell  upon  his  daughter,  and  he 
held  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"A  little  water,  girl,"  he  said,  quite  clearly, 
and  when  she  put  the  cup  to  his  lips  he  gulped  a 
mouthful  nervously  and  then  pushed  it  away. 
"There — that'll  do,  my  girl — let  me  lie  down  for 
a  little." 

He  relaxed  completely  when  they  had  set  him 
back,  and  in  a  few  moments  went  off  in  a  sound 


194      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

sleep.  Scarcely  a  word  had  been  spoken  by  any 
member  of  the  group,  but  as  soon  as  they  realized 
that  the  old  man  had  fallen  asleep  Gabe  and  King 
withdrew  quietly,  leaving  Anne  with  Cherry. 

As  soon  as  King  had  heard  Gabe's  report  on 
what  had  occurred  during  his  absence  he  outlined 
in  brief  form  what  he  believed  to  be  McCartney's 
plan  to  register  a  timber  claim  in  the  hills  and  set 
up  a  camp  for  the  winter.  For  the  first  time  he 
felt  it  was  necessary  to  reveal  to  Gabe  the  secrets 
that  lay  behind  McCartney's  power  and  the  ob- 
jectives which  he  knew  McCartney  was  aiming  to 
achieve.  The  old  man  listened  intently  and  sur- 
prise grew  in  his  face  as  he  heard  what  King  had 
to  relate.  The  circumstances  made  it  very  clear 
to  Gabe  that  King  must  stay  in  camp  for  a  couple 
of  days  at  any  rate,  or  until  such  time  as  Keith 
McBain  could  resume  control  of  affairs.  That 
Anne  should  be  sent  back  early  in  the  morning 
with  instructions  to  Hurley  seemed  at  once  the 
most  feasible,  and  the  most  easily  executed  plan 
they  could  adopt.  Accordingly,  after  turning  the 
horses  over  to  the  care  of  the  corral  foreman,  they 
went  at  once  to  the  store  where  they  knew  they 
would  probably  be  alone,  where  King,  with  the 
help  of  roughly-sketched  maps  and  memoranda 
he  had  made  during  his  trip  in  the  hills,  dreyv  up 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      195 

detailed  information  which  Anne  should  place  in 
the  hands  of  Hurley. 

When  the  information  was  complete  and  all  the 
instructions  carefully  worked  out,  King  took 
Gabe  with  him  to  make  the  rounds  of  the  camp 
before  laying  plans  for  the  night.  The  strenuous 
life  of  the  past  week,  with  its  days  and  many  of  its 
nights  crowded  with  activity,  was  beginning  to 
tell  on  King,  and  he  was  hoping  that  he  might  be 
able  to  steal  a  few  hours'  rest  before  anything 
further  cropped  up  to  claim  his  attention. 

The  camp  was  in  darkness.  A  solitary  light 
shone  from  the  window  of  the  large1  bunkhouse 
where  the  men  had  eaten  their  meals  during  the 
day.  King,  with  Gabe  following  closely  behind 
him,  went  first  to  the  corral  to  see  that  the  horses 
had  not  been  neglected.  They  found  the  foreman 
sitting  on  a  bale  of  pressed  hay,  smoking  quietly 
by  himself.  He  had  attended  personally  to  the 
comfort  of  King's  horse  and  Keith  McBain's 
team,  and  seemed  pleased  when  King  looked  his 
approval. 

'They  don't  look  bad  at  all,"  King  remarked, 
running  his  hand  over  the  flank  of  one  of  Mc- 
Bain's team. 

"Huh — they're  all  right,"  the  foreman  replied. 
"They  don't  do  enough  to  hurt  them.  No — but 
here's  a  couple  that  looks  about  all  in." 


196      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

He  led  King  and  Gabe  to  two  horses  that  stood 
together  munching  lazily  at  the  wisp  of  dry  hay 
that  the  foreman  had  placed  before  them. 

"Them  horses  are  too  tired  to  eat,"  he  said,  as 
he  went  between  them  and  stroked  their  coats 
still  matted  with  rain  and  sweat. 

King  looked  the  horses  over  in  silence.  He 
did  not  have  to  be  told  the  reason  for  their  con- 
dition. When  Gabe  turned  to  him  with  ques- 
tioning look,  King  nodded.  After  they  had  gone 
the  rounds  of  the  corral  and  had  found  every- 
thing in  good  order  they  left  and  went  out  again 
to  learn,  if  possible,  what  mood  the  men  were  in. 

They  had  not  gone  more  than  a  dozen  steps 
when  the  door  of  the  large  bunkhouse  opened  and 
a  flood  of  light  fell  from  the  open  doorway  upon 
the  wet  ground  immediately  in  front.  Someone 
appeared  in  the  doorway  for  a  moment  and  threw 
a  bottle  that  fell  against  a  pile  of  stones  a  few 
yards  away.  At  the  sound  of  the  breaking  glass 
old  Gabe  grunted. 

"They're  at  it  again  to-night,"  he  said  with 
grim  emphasis. 

"I  guess  we'll  have  to  go  in  and  look  round 
anyhow,"  King  replied  quietly. 

As  he  spoke  the  sound  of  laughter  came  from 
the  bunkhouse,  and  the  voices  of  two  or  three 
men  speaking  very  loudly. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      197 

King  and  Gabe  paused  when  they  came  to  the 
door  and  listened  for  a  moment  to  what  was  going 
on  within.  There  was  the  usual  round  of  noisy 
conversation  without  the  slightest  indication  of 
dissension  of  any  kind,  and  King  was  of  two 
minds  whether  he  should  go  in  at  all,  or  turn  back 
and  go  to  the  store,  at  the  back  of  which  he  had  a 
cot  prepared  for  a  night's  rest.  While  he  hesi- 
tated, however,  Gabe  stepped  forward  and  opened 
the  door,  and  the  next  moment  King  followed 
him  into  the  bunkhouse. 

Their  coming  created  no  surprise.  They  were 
greeted  casually  and  with  no  show  of  concern. 
At  the  end  of  the  open  space  that  ran  the  length 
of  the  bunkhouse  from  the  door  to  the  other  end, 
one  of  the  camp  hands,  a  mere  boy,  was  just  be- 
ginning a  song  for  the  entertainment  of  the  men, 
who  were  lounging  about  on  benches  and  in  the 
bunks,  some  of  them  already  half  asleep. 

King  and  Gabe  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  one  of 
the  bunks  and  listened  to  the  high  falsetto  that 
piped  through  the  whole  length  of  twelve  or  fif- 
teen verses  that  reeked  with  tragedy.  During  the 
song  King  looked  about  him  quietly  at  the  men. 
In  the  faces  of  most  of  them  he  could  trace  the 
effects  of  two  or  three  days'  debauch.  But  they 
all  seemed  quiet  and  gave  no  indication  of  bad 
temper.  In  fact  when  the  boy  came  to  the  last 


198      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

line  of  his  song  and  spoke  the  words  in  the  time- 
honored  manner  that  camp  singers  have  of  end- 
ing a  song,  the  applause  that  broke  from  the  men 
was  so  generous  and  their  comments  so  good- 
natured  that  King  could  not  help  feeling  his  sense 
of  security  returning.  He  was  confident  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  these  men  if  they  were 
left  alone.  With  the  exception  of  three  or  four, 
who  looked  as  if  they  had  been  drinking  a  little 
too  freely  during  the  evening,  the  men  had 
sobered  up  and  were  almost  normal  again. 

King  got  up  and  walked  the  full  length  of  the 
open  space  between  the  bunks  and  sat  down  on  a 
bench  near  a  group  of  men  who  were  playing 
cards.  He  spoke  to  no  one  except  to  return  the 
greetings  he  received  here  and  there  as  he  passed 
among  the  men,  and  when  he  had  sat  down  he 
rolled  himself  a  cigarette  and  watched  the  game 
in  silence.  Gabe  was  still  sitting  near  the  door 
talking  to  some  of  the  men. 

Gradually,  as  King  sat  watching  the  game,  he 
became  conscious  of  a  change  in  the  atmosphere 
of  general  good  nature  that  had  pervaded  the 
bunkhouse.  The  conversation  grew  noisy  and  he 
thought  he  heard  his  own  name  mentioned  once 
or  twice  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  He  did  not  e^en 
turn  his  head,  however,  until  he  felt  someone's 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      199 

hand  on  his  shoulder  and  looked  round  to  see 
Gabe  leaning  over  him.  The  old  fellow  indicated 
by  a  shake  of  his  head  that  he  was  ready  to  go, 
and  King  got  up  to  follow  him. 

Immediately  there  was  a  disturbance  behind 
him,  and  he  turned  to  see  three  of  the  men 
struggling  with  a  fourth.  When  they  had  suc- 
ceeded in  pushing  him  back  into  his  bunk  one  of 
them  turned  to  King  with  a  laugh. 

"Your  life  ain't  worth  mor'n  a  bob-tailed  flusK 
round  here,  Howden,"  he  said,  "an'  I'm  givin' 
you  odds  at  that." 

King  looked  at  the  man  in  the  bunk.  "What's 
the  matter?"  he  asked. 

"Don't  you  bother  about  him,  Howden,"  said 
another,  "he's  drunk,  an'  he  don't  like  you, 
but " 

"He  just  got  in  from  the  road,"  interrupted  the1 
first  speaker,  "an'  he  ain't  had  much  to  eat.  A 
couple  o'  drinks  was  enough  to  put  him  out." 

For  a  moment  the  hum  of  conversation  ceased 
and  the  men  looked  out  from  their  bunks  with 
expectancy  in  their  faces.  And  in  that  moment 
the  door  opened  and  Bill  McCartney  stepped  in. 

King  looked  at  him  from  the  other  end  of  the1 
long  aisle.  For  some  time  McCartney  appar- 
ently didn't  see  him.  Suddenly  their  eyes  met 


200      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  King  noticed  that  McCartney  swayed  un- 
steadily, and  putting  out  his  hand  laid  it  upon 
the  edge  of  a  bunk  for  support. 

Someone  standing  close  to  King  muttered  in  a 
half  whisper : 

"Look  out,  Howden,  he's  drunk,  an*  he's  ugly, 
an'  he's  goin'  to  get  you  if  he  can." 

But  King  continued  looking  at  McCartney 
without  speaking  a  word.  Gabe  tugged  a  mo- 
ment at  King's  arm,  but  King  moved  him  gently 
to  one  side.  His  whole  attention  was  centred  on 
McCartney,  who  had  taken  his  hand  from  the 
bunk  and  was  doing  his  best  to  stand  erect  and 
return  King's  gaze.  Once  he  took  a  couple  of 
steps  towards  King,  but  his  knees  wobbled  and 
he  was  forced  to  put  a  hand  out  again  to  keep 
himself  from  falling.  Then  he  looked  at  King 
with  a  sneer  on  his  lips. 

"What  the  hell — are  you  doin' — here?"  he 
asked,  in  a  voice  that  was  thick  and  unsteady. 

King  did  not  reply. 

"It  won't  do  you  no  good — comin'  round  here 
— interferin'  between  Keith  McBain  an'  me," 
McCartney  went  on.  "That's  my  affair  an'  you 
keep  out." 

Still  King  did  not  offer  to  say  a  word. 

But  someone  else  spoke  up  from  behind  King. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      201 

"Go  on  back  to  your  bunk,  Bill,"  said  the  voice. 
"You're  too  drunk  to  talk  that  way  to-night." 

"Drunk?"  sneered  Bill  McCartney,  and  for  a 
moment  he  seemed  suddenly  to  sober  up.  "Well, 
I'll  tell  you  this.  I  may  be  drunk  but  I  know 
what  brings  this  son  of  a  dog  here  where  he  ain't 
wanted — an'  he  knows.  He's  payin'  a  visit — a 
reg'lar  visit." 

King's  frame  straightened  up  and  his  jaw  set 
firmly. 

"But  he's  welcome,  he  can  have  her,"  McCart- 
ney continued.  "He  can  ask  her  who  was  with 
her  last  night — ask  Gabe  there." 

King  took  a  half  dozen  steps  towards  Mc- 
Cartney and  thrust  his  face  close.  Conversation 
had  ceased  and  a  deathly  silence  had  come  over 
the  place.  Every  man  there  had  looked  forward 
to  the  time  when  these  two  should  meet  and  settle 
accounts.  The  fact  that  McCartney  was  clearly 
under  the  influence  of  liquor  gave  some  cause  for 
regret  but,  on  the  other  hand,  they  felt  that  if 
McCartney  was  going  to  play  the  game  at  all  it 
was  strictly  his  own  affair,  and  it  was  his  business 
to  come  prepared  for  a  show-down  whenever  and 
wherever  the  occasion  arose. 

"You  don't  give  me  a  chance,"  King  said  very 
slowly  and  in  a  tone  of  genuine  regret.  "You 

N 


202      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

talk  to  me  like  that  because  you're  drunk.  But 
you  won't  talk  like  that  where  I  am,  even  if  you 
are  drunk.  Some  day  you'll  be  sober,  and  I'm 
going  to  ask  you  about  this.  Then  you'll  have  to 
eat  what  you  said.  But  I'm  going  to  wait.  Just 
now  I'm  going  to  throw  you  out." 

i£ven  as  he  spoke,  he  stepped  deliberately  to- 
wards McCartney,  and  the  latter  lurched  heavily 
to  meet  him,  aiming  a  blow  with  his  huge  fist  as 
he  came.  The  blow  was  badly  directed  and  King 
parried  it  without  effort.  The  next  moment  he 
had  McCartney  round  the  waist  and  had  lifted 
him  bodily  from  the  floor. 

"Open  the  door,  Gabe,"  he  ordered,  and  as 
Gabe  swung  the  door  open  King  half  carried,  half 
pushed  his  struggling  burden  into  the  open  door- 
way and  with  a  final  effort,  into  which  he  put  all 
his  strength,  he  lifted  the  drunken  foreman  and 
threw  him  out  into  the  darkness,  where  he 
stumbled  and  fell  clumsily  to  the  ground. 

King  stood  for  a  moment  and  watched  him 
while  he  scrambled  awkwardly  to  his  feet  and 
stood  cursing.  He  would  have  come  back  at 
King  almost  immediately  had  it  not  been  for  a 
couple  of  the  men  who  edged  their  way  out 
quickly  past  King  and  led  McCartney  away  in  the 
darkness  to  his  own  quarters,  cursing  and  shout- 
ing threats  as  he  went. 


Then  King  turned  and  looked  behind  him  at 
the  men. 

"I  guess  we'll  be  going  on  back,  Gabe,"  he  said 
quietly.  "There  won't  be  any  more  trouble  to- 
night." 

Together  the  two  men  left  the  bunkhouse  and 
started  off  down  the  trail  towards  the  store. 

When  they  had  reached  the  door  King  stopped 
and  looked  once  round  the  camp,  where  it  lay  in 
pitch  darkness. 

"Go  on  in,  Gabe,"  he  said  to  the  old  man. 
"I'm  going  to  take  a  walk  over  to  the  cabin  and 
see  that  everything  is  all  right." 

Gabe  hesitated  at  the  thought  of  letting  King 
go  away  alone,  but  knowing  his  protests  would 
be  quite  useless,  he  entered  the  store  and  King 
went  off. 

At  first  King  found  it  difficult  to  make  up  His 
mind  to  go  directly  to  the  cabin.  In  his  heart  of 
hearts  he  yearned  for  one  look  at  Cherry.  But 
he  knew  Cherry's  disposition.  He  knew  that  she 
had  resolved  upon  a  course  of  action  in  her  future 
relations  with  him  that  he  might  just  as  well  save 
himself  the  trouble  of  trying  to  change.  And 
yet  he  wanted  to  hear  her  voice  again ;  he  wanted 
to  speak  to  her  and  explain.  He  wondered  if 
Anne  might  not  have  already  said  something  that 


204:      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

would  make  it  easy  for  him  to  attempt  to  restore 
himself  to  Cherry's  confidence. 

And  so,  as  he  strolled  along  in  the  darkness,  his 
mind  was  divided  as  to  what  he  should  do.  By 
the  time  he  had  come  to  within  a  dozen  yards  of 
the  cabin  he  had  decided  to  allow  his  course  of 
action  to  grow  out  of  the  dictates  of  the  moment. 
One  step  at  a  time,  he  thought  to  himself,  and 
started  off  again  towards  the  cabin. 

The  light  still  shone  from  the  cabin  window, 
and  the  thought  came  to  King  that  he  might 
creep  up  and  perhaps  get  a  glimpse  of  Cherry 
through  the  window.  But  before  he  had  covered 
half  the  distance  he  became  instinctively  aware 
of  the  presence  of  someone  behind  him.  At  first 
he  had  only  a  vague  presentiment  such  as  conies 
often  to  one  moving  about  alone  at  night.  But 
soon  the  feeling  took  complete  possession  of  him, 
and  he  turned  to  see  if  he  might  not  catch  sight 
of  someone  following  him.  His  first  thought 
naturally  was  of  McCartney,  but  he  realized  on 
second  thought  that  McCartney  was  at  that  mo- 
ment in  no  condition  to  justify  the  suspicion. 

As  a  precautionary  measure  he  walked  back 
slowly  along  the  pathway.  He  had  gone  not 
more  than  a  dozen  yards,  however,  when  he 
stopped  suddenly  where  the  pathway  was  ob- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      205 

scured  by  a  clump  of  bushes  that  hung  over  from 
one  side.  Directly  in  front  of  him  a  form  was 
moving  towards  him  out  of  the  darkness.  When 
it  had  come  within  three  yards  of  him  it  stopped 
and  King  thought  he  recognized  the  newcomer 
as  one  of  the  two  riders  whom  he  had  met  coming 
into  camp  earlier  in  the  evening. 

There  was  a  quick  movement  that  King  could 
scarcely  discern  in  the  darkness,  and  he  threw  up 
his  arms  instinctively  to  ward  off  an  attack.  He 
was  too  late,  however.  Something  struck  him 
heavily  upon  the  head  and  for  a  few  moments  he 
swayed  dizzily  with  his  hands  upon  his  face,  his 
teeth  clenched  in  a  struggle  to  beat  back 
by  sheer  will-power  a  flood  of  horrible  darkness 
that  threatened  to  engulf  his  senses.  For  one 
brief  moment  he  thought  how  utterly  ridiculous 
it  was  that  his  legs  should  tremble  so  uncertainly 
under  him,  and  that  the  world  about  him  should 
seem  to  be  moving  in  a  dizzy  circle.  Then  sud- 
denly the  realization  came  to  him  that  he  was  in 
danger  of  losing  the  fight,  and  he  redoubled 
his  efforts  to  shake  himself  free  from  a  power 
that  clutched  him  like  some  black  monster 
battling  for  his  overthrow.  He  was  vaguely 
conscious  of  something  warm  creeping  down  his 
cheek — like  a  great  bead  of  sweat.  He  put  his 


206      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

hand  slowly  to  his  head  and  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  hair.  The  sensation  turned  him  sick. 

In  one  last  remaining  moment  of  consciousness 
he  realized  that  the  struggle  was  going  against 
him,  and  he  summoned  all  the  energy  and  power 
of  will  that  was  left  him  in  an  effort  to  reach  the 
cabin  before  giving  up.  The  noises  in  his  ears 
became  suddenly  more  deafening — he  found  it 
impossible  to  place  his  feet  where  they  should  go 
— his  knees  became  sickeningly  weak — then  he 
stumbled  over  nothing  and  put  his  hands  out 
blindly  before  him  as  he  fell. 

In  a  moment  it  was  as  if  all  the  darkness  that 
brooded  over  the  world  had  crowded  into  one 
brain  and  blotted  out  the  last  ray  of  light. 


' 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

KING  awoke  and  looked  round  him.  There 
had  been  a  sound  of  a  door  closing  some- 
where and  voices  coming  to  him  across  a 
great  distance.  He  remembered  the  passing  of  a 
cool  breeze  across  his  cheek  with  the  fresh  scent 
of  wet  pine  in  it. 

Raising  himself  on  his  elbow  he  turned  his 
head  and  took  a  quick  survey  of  the  room  in 
which  he  was  lying.  Across  the  room  the  door 
was  partly  ajar — above  him  the  window  was 
wide  open,  letting  in  a  flood  of  morning  light. 
He  tried  to  remember  what  had  occurred — his 
head  was  very  heavy  and  his  temples  throbbed 
with  pain — he  became  dizzy,  and  the  arm  with 
which  he  supported  himself  became  suddenly 
weak.  He  lay  back  again  heavily  upon  the  cot. 
For  a  moment  he  lay  with  his  eyes  closed, 
struggling  to  beat  off  the  sense  of  utter  forgetful- 
ness  that  crept  into  his  brain. 

Something  touched  his  elbow  and  he  turned 
his  head  slightly  on  the  pillow  and  opened  his 
eyes  again.  Sal  was  there,  her  two  front  paws 

207 


208      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

upon  the  patch-quilt  that  covered  him,  her  eyes 
shining  and  her  ears  pricked  forward  in  eager 
concern.  King  lifted  a  hand  wearily  and  placed 
it  upon  the  dog's  paws,  in  response  to  which  Sal 
emitted  an  anxious  whine  that  ended  in  some- 
thing like  a  bark. 

Immediately  the  door  was  pushed  wide  open, 
and  Gabe  Smith  stepped  into  the  room.  He  was 
in  his  shirt-sleeves,  but  his  hat  was  on  his  head 
and  his  pipe  in  his  hand,  ready,  apparently,  for 
action  of  whatever  kind  the  occasion  might 
prompt. 

He  moved  over  to  the  side  of  the  cot  and 
looked  down  at  King  with  an  odd  smile,  half  of 
pity  and  half  of  amusement,  lighting  his  old  face. 

"Tryin'  to  kick  off?"  he  asked  in  an  attempt  to 
appear  cheerful,  "or  are  you  jist  tryin'  to  scare 
the  rest  of  us  to  death?" 

King's  smile  was  too  faint  to  be  very  assuring, 
and  Gabe  leaned  down  and  looked  more  closely 
into  his  face. 

"How  do  you  feel?"  he  asked. 

For  reply  King  put  one  of  his  hands  to  his 
head  and  sighed  heavily.  He  seemed  to  be  on 
the  point  of  speaking,  but  finding  the  effort  too 
great  turned  his  head  away  impatiently  and  re- 
laxed wearily  against  the  pillows. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      209 

Without  speaking  another  word  Gabe  left  the 
room  and  returned  in  a  few  moments  with 
Cherry.  He  remained  standing  by  the  door 
while  the  girl  stepped  over  to  the  cot  and  laid  her 
hand  gently  on  King's  forehead.  At  the  touch  of 
her  hand  he  turned  his  head  slowly  again  towards 
them  and  opened  his  eyes.  He  looked  bewildered. 

"You're  here  with  us  in  the  cabin,"  Cherry 
said,  quietly.  Then  she  got  up  quickly  and  left 
the  room.  When  she  came  back  she  carried  a 
jug  of  fresh  water  from  the  spring,  and  a  white 
cup.  Filling  the  cup  quickly,  she  placed  one 
hand  under  King's  head  and  put  the  water  to  his 
lips. 

He  drank  till  the  cup  was  quite  empty  and  then 
lay  back  again  upon  the  pillows  and  closed  his 
eyes.  Cherry  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  fear 
gripping  her  heart.  His  face  was  pale  and  drawn, 
with  a  bright  red  spot  flaming  on  each  cheek. 
His  brow  was  hot  when  she  laid  her  hand  on  it, 
and  his  arms  lying  powerless  upon  the  bed-cover 
were  burning  to  the  touch.  She  did  not  know 
whether  he  was  asleep  or  not — he  lay  so  still. 

Getting  up,  she  poured  some  water  she  had 
just  taken  from  the  spring  into  a  dish  that  stood 
on  a  small  table  in  one  corner  of  the  room.  She 
dipped  a  clean  bit  of  white  cloth  in  the  water 


210      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  wrung  it  dry.  Then  she  stepped  again  to 
the  side  of  the  cot,  and  brushing  the  hair  back 
gently  from  King's  forehead,  laid  the  cold  cloth 
on  his  brow. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  with  her  hand  lying 
lightly  upon  the  cloth  and  looking  into  King's 
face.  Gabe  came  closer  and  stood  looking  down 
at  them,  extending  one  of  his  hands  towards  Sal, 
who  was  moving  restlessly  about  and  pawing  at 
Gabe's  knees  to  get  his  attention. 

Slowly  King  opened  his  eyes.  He  looked  at 
them  a  moment  in  silence. 

"Would  you  like  some  more  water?"  Cherry 
asked  him. 

He  nodded  his  head  slightly  and  Gabe  filled 
the  cup  and  handed  it  to  Cherry.  This  time  he 
drank  more  slowly  and  was  satisfied  when  he 
had  taken  but  half  of  what  was  in  the  cup. 

"I  guess  I'm — I'm  worrying  you,"  he  said,  and 
his  voice  was  scarcely  more  than  a  hoarse  whis- 
per. "Sorry — but  I'll  be  all  right — soon.  It's 
my  head — I  must  have  been  hit — hit  hard.  I  re- 
member— I  tried  not  to  go  down — but  I — I  had 
to  go." 

Cherry  brushed  her  hand  lightly  across  his 
hair. 

"But  you  mustn't  talk,  King,"  she  said  quietly. 
"You  must  be  quiet  for  a  while." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      211 

He  smiled  up  at  her. 

"Don't  bother  about  me,"  he  said.  "I'll  be  bet- 
ter— right  away." 

His  whole  body  seemed  to  relax  suddenly  as 
he  ceased  speaking,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  again. 
Cherry  remained  crouching  upon  one  knee  beside 
the  cot,  her  eyes  upon  his  face,  one  of  her  hands 
still  under  his  head,  where  she  had  placed  it  when 
she  helped  him  to  drink,  the  other  hand  on  the 
coverlet,  her  fingers  touching  his  arm. 

Half  consciously  she  allowed  her  hand  to  creep 
down  until  her  fingers  were  pressing  lightly 
against  the  pulse  in  his  wrist.  It  was  very  fast, 
but  quite  strong.  Even  after  she  had  ceased  to 
observe  the  pulse-beat  she  allowed  her  fingers  to 
remain  half  circling  his  stout  wrist.  Then  she 
moved  her  hand  over  his  and  caught  his  fingers 
in  her  own.  She  glanced  behind  her — old  Gabe 
had  gone  out  of  the  room.  For  one  long  moment 
she  allowed  her  hand  to  rest  upon  his,  and  then 
her  fingers  tightened  slowly  and  her  head  bowed 
towards  him. 

His  lips  moved,  and  Cherry  listened  breath- 
lessly for  any  word  he  might  speak. 

"I'll  go  back — stay  here — Anne,"  he  muttered. 
"Here  you — Sal — come  here.  Steady  up — you 
fool."  " 

His  voice  trailed  off  into  incoherent  mutter- 


212      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

ings.  Then  he  lay  still  and  his  breathing  became 
even,  though  Cherry,  in  spite  of  her  inexperience, 
knew  that  it  was  very  quick  and  weak. 

Once  more  she  removed  the  cloth  from  his 
head,  and  washing  it  in  cold  water,  replaced  it 
again  and  pressed  it  down  softly  with  her  fingers. 

Then  she  went  out  to  where  old  Gabe  Smith 
was  standing  in  the  doorway  of  the  cabin.  For  a 
long  time  they  stood  together  in  silence,  their 
eyes  turned  towards  the  trail  where  it  came  out 
of  cover  of  the  shrubbery  and  entered  the  camp. 

"There's  no  use  looking  for  her  yet,"  said 
Cherry. 

"No,  she'll  do  well  if  she  gets  here  much  before 
supper,"  Gabe  replied. 

Cherry  and  Gabe  were  thinking  of  the  same 
thing — they  had  been  thinking  of  it  for  hours. 
Not  long  after  King  had  stumbled  and  fallen  un- 
conscious in  the  darkness  near  Keith  McBain's 
cabin,  Gabe  had  started  out  to  learn,  if  possible, 
what  was  delaying  his  return.  When  he  came 
to  the  cabin  and  found  that  King  had  not  been 
there,  a  hurried  search  was  made,  in  which  both 
Anne  and  Cherry  assisted,  and  in  a  very  short 
time  they  came  across  King's  form  lying  a  few 
feet  from  the  beaten  pathway,  all  but  hidden 
among  the  grass  and  low  brush  into  which  he  had 
fallen. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      213 

At  first  they  had  feared  the  very  worst.  He 
seemed  to  show  no  signs  of  life  whatever.  They 
got  him  into  the  cabin  as  quickly  as  possible, 
however,  and  Cherry's  cot  was  made  ready  to  re- 
ceive him.  When  they  had  laid  him  down  and 
bathed  his  head  and  face  with  cool  water,  old 
Gabe  placed  his  hand  close  upon  King's  breast, 
while  the  two  girls  waited,  fear  and  hope 
struggling  for  mastery  in  their  hearts.  At  last 
Gabe  drew  a  deep  breath  and  nodded  in  the 
affirmative. 

At  once  both  girls  hurried  to  perform  a  dozen 
small  tasks,  while  Gabe  removed  King's  outer 
clothing  and  got  him  into  bed.  Then  for  an  hour 
or  more  Cherry  and  Anne,  with  a  gentleness  that 
was  native  to  them  and  went  a  long  way  to- 
wards supplying  what  they  wanted  in  the  way 
of  experience,  carefully  washed  the  clots  of  blood 
from  his  hair  and  cleaned  the  wound  that  gaped 
viciously  within  a  few  inches  of  his  left  temple. 
When  they  had  bathed  the  wound  thoroughly 
and  dressed  it  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  they 
were  relieved  to  find  him  breathing  quite  audibly. 
His  pulse  was  easily  perceptible,  and  once  or 
twice  he  had  sighed  deeply,  like  one  coming  out 
of  a  long  sleep. 

King's  condition  did  not  cease  to  cause  them 
anxiety,  however,  and  all  three  admitted  their 


214      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

own  helplessness  in  the  face  of  serious  develop- 
ments. 

It  was  Anne  who  spoke  the  first  words  that 
gave  shape  to  their  wondering.  "We've  got  to 
get  the  company  doctor,"  she  said.  "I'm  goin' 
to  the  end-of-the-line.  You  can  stay  here  and 
look  after  things." 

She  asked  no  help  in  preparing  for  the  trip. 
A  little  after  midnight  she  was  off  alone  on 
Cherry's  horse  on  a  trail  more  than  half  hidden 
in  darkness,  a  trail,  moreover,  that  she  had  never 
travelled  before.  After  all,  she  told  herself,  there 
was  only  one  trail  and  it  ended  at  the  supply 
camp. 

The  hours  of  waiting  that  followed  passed  very 
slowly.  Cherry  had  given  her  father  all  the  at- 
tention he  required  and  had  left  him  sleeping 
soundly,  with  the  hope  that  the  morning  would 
find  him  ready,  as  usual,  to  get  up  and  go  about 
the  regular  duties  of  the  camp.  During  the  hours 
that  were  left  between  Anne's  departure  and  day- 
break Cherry  watched  by  King's  side,  placing 
cold  cloths  upon  his  fevered  brow  and  bathing  his 
wrists  and  arms  in  cold  water  from  the  spring. 
Gabe  had  stayed  with  her,  dozing  for  a  couple  of 
hours  on  the  couch,  where  he  was  ready  to  answer 
her  call  in  case  she  wanted  his  assistance. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      215 

When  the  sun  was  well  up  Keith  McBain  had 
got  up  from  his  bed  much  as  he  had  done  every 
morning  for  years.  After  eating  his  breakfast 
and  looking  in  for  a  brief  moment  upon  King,  he 
had  left  the  cabin  without  a  word  to  anyone,  ex- 
cept Gabe  Smith,  whom  he  told  to  stay  by  Cherry 
during  the  day  and  see  that  she  got  some  rest. 
During  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  he  had 
not  once  come  back  to  the  cabin,  nor  sent  any- 
one to  make  inquiries.  As  many  men  as  could 
be  used  on  the  grade  in  work  that  could  be  done 
in  spite  of  the  wet  ground,  were  sent  out  under  a 
foreman  to  go  about  their  tasks  in  the  usual 
manner.  He  himself  had  remained  behind,  with 
a  score  of  men  and  a  couple  of  teams,  to  repair 
the  damage  that  had  been  done  the  night  before. 
Though  there  would  be  at  most  only  a  few 
weeks  during  which  there  could  be  any  use  for  a 
cook  camp,  Keith  McBain  went  about  the  work 
of  putting  up  a  new  camp  with  the  same  cool  de- 
termination and  matter-of-fact  oversight  that  he 
would  have  given  to  the  building  of  a  camp  that 
was  to  last  for  the  whole  summer.  Before  he 
had  been  on  the  ground  an  hour  the  men  were 
swinging  along  at  their  work'  as  evenly  and  as  re- 
gularly as  the  parts  of  a  machine. 

McCartney  failed  to  put  in  an  appearance  at 


216      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

all  during  the  day — but  Old  Silent  never  made 
the  slightest  reference  to  the  fact. 

As  it  turned  out,  it  was  already  quite  dark  by 
the  time  Anne  returned,  seated  in  a  buckboard, 
with  the  company  doctor.  The  horse  that  she 
had  ridden  away  on  trotted  along  behind  them, 
where  they  had  tethered  it  to  the  rear  axle. 

Keith  McBain  met  them  at  the  door  and 
greeted  the  doctor  with  a  handshake  and  a  smile 
that  seemed  for  the  moment  to  transform  his 
stern  grey  face,  lighting  it  up  with  a  rare  sym- 
pathy and  a  kindliness  that  seldom  found  expres- 
sion in  his  work-a-day  life. 

"The  roads  must  be  bad,"  he  remarked,  after 
they  had  exchanged  greetings,  and  then,  when 
the  doctor  had  removed  his  coat  and  looked 
questitmingly  at  him,  "He's  in  there.  The  girl's 
with  him." 

The  doctor,  a  young,  energetic  chap,  whose 
manner  was  efficiency  itself,  went  at  once  into 
the  room  that  Keith  McBain  had  indicated.  No 
sooner  was  he  gone  than  Anne  stepped  quickly  to 
the  old  man  and  took  him  eagerly  by  the  arm. 

"How  is  he?"  she  said. 

Keith  McBain  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"He  may  be  some  better,"  he  replied.  "He  has 
slept  all  day,  except  now  and  then  when  he  asked 


for  a  drink.  He  talks  all  right  when  he's  awake, 
but " 

Cherry  came  out  of  the  room  and  closed  the 
door  after  her.  Her  face  showed  clearly  the 
effects  of  what  she  had  been  through  in  the  last 
few  days,  but  no  one  could  see  the  slightest  in- 
dication that  she  was  ready  to  give  up.  The 
light  in  her  dark  eyes  shone  stronger  and  more 
steady  than  ever.  She  had  entered  a  conflict 
of  which,  for  the  time  being  at  least,  she  felt  her- 
self the  centre.  The  little  world  she  had  built 
for  herself,  and  in  which  she  had  lived  so  long 
without  giving  more  than  a  passing  thought  to 
the  evil  forces  that  were  moving  about  her,  was 
now  in  a  state  of  chaos  and  disorder.  She  could 
no  longer  say  to  herself,  as  she  had  done  so  often 
before,  that  time  would  show  the  way.  She  knew 
enough  of  McCartney's  designs  (he  had  revealed 
enough  to  her  himself)  to  know  that  unless  some- 
thing was  done  at  once  a  very  short  time  would 
bring  disaster  upon  her  father — of  what  nature 
and  by  what  means  she  had  ceased  trying  to  im- 
agine— and  she  knew  not  what  misfortune  upon 
herself. 

And  this  conflict  was  supplemented  by  another, 
no  less  keen,  that  was  being  fought  with  her  own 
heart  as  a  battleground.  In  the  room  she  had 


218      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

just  left  lay  the  man  in  whom,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life,  and  for  reasons  she  could  not  un- 
derstand, she  had  imposed  her  fullest  confidence 
in  the  face  of  impending  disaster.  But  he  was 
more  than  a  protector.  She  had  realized  more 
keenly  than  ever,  while  she  watched  beside  his 
cot,  that  a  heart-hunger  had  seized  her  that  only 
this  big  boy  of  a  man  could  satisfy.  She  prayed 
for  his  recovery,  for  his  own  sake  and  for  her 
father's  sake — but  passionately  for  the  sake  of 
the  woman  that  she  was. 

And  now  as  she  stood  by  the  door  she  had  just 
closed  and  looked  at  Anne,  who  was  talking  to 
her  father,  she  felt  as  one  who  has  awakened 
jFrom  a  happy  dream.  In  her  pride  she  could  not 
think  of  showing  any  but  the  most  casual  regard 
for  Anne ;  but  in  her  riotous  young  heart  she  al- 
most hated  her.  Even  as  these  thoughts  flashed 
across  her  mind  she  saw  her  father  place  an  arm 
about  Anne's  shoulders. 

"Anne,"  he  said  quietly,  "you've  done  your 
part,  girl.  But  you've  got  to  get  some  rest  now. 
Cherry — make  her  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  she  has 
had  a  bite  to  eat." 

For  the  next  hour  there  were  f  e\fr  words  spoken. 
Keith  McBain  sat  by  himself  apart  and  smoked 
incessantly.  Occasionally  the  doctor  opened  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      219 

door  of  the  room  in  which  he  was  working  and 
asked  for  something  to  be  brought  him.  But  the 
request  was  made  without  any  exchange  of 
words  beyond  what  was  absolutely  essential. 
Even  when  Gabe  Smith  entered  after  seeing  that 
the  horses  had  received  the  attention  they  re- 
quired, there  was  little  more  than  a  questioning 
look  or  two  and  an  exchange  of  glances. 

When  after  a  long  time  the  doctor  finally 
came  out  of  the  room  the  expression  on  his  face 
was  so  reassuring  as  to  change  the  mood  of  every 
one  of  them  instantly.  Keith  McBain  was  the 
first  to  speak.  He  got  up  quickly,  taking  his 
pipe  from  his  mouth  as  he  stepped  briskly  to- 
wards the  doctor. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what's  the  verdict?" 

The  doctor  smiled. 

"If  the  same  thing  had  happened  to  me,  Mr. 
McBain,"  the  doctor  replied,  "my  light  would 
have  gone  out  for  good.  But  this  boy,  Howden — 
he'll  be  out  again  for  the  mail  in  a  week,  if  he 
gets  anything  like  careful  handling  in  the  mean- 
time. There  are  some  men  in  the  world  that  you 
can't  kill — and  he  seems  to  be  one  of  them.  But 
give  me  something  to  eat.  I  can  talk  better  on 
a  full  stomach." 

The  conversation  turned  into  another  channel 


220      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  finally  followed  a  course  that  was  of  interest 
only  to  the  men. 

The  doctor  did  not  stay  long  after  he  had  eaten 
his  supper,  but  he  gave  his  directions  very  speci- 
fically to  Cherry.  The  patient  had  to  be  kept 
where  he  was  for  a  few  days,  and  Cherry  herself 
would  have  to  give  him  all  the  attention  possible. 
He  was  not  to  talk  nor  become  excited.  The 
dressings  were  explained  thoroughly,  and  all  the 
details  of  the  treatment  he  was  to  receive  were 
gone  into  briefly  but  pointedly.  And  then — the 
doctor  was  gone,  and  they  were  alone  again. 

The  next  morning  Anne  left  for  town.  For 
reasons  which  Cherry  could  not  explain  she  had 
been  strangely  drawn  to  the  girl  during  the  two 
nights  they  had  spent  together  in  the  cabin. 
Fears  and  hopes  that  are  shared  in  common  are 
powerful  factors  in  shaping  human  lives  and 
moulding  human  sympathies.  And  Cherry  had 
actually  come  to  look  upon  Anne  with  something 
like  pity. 

It  was  this  feeling  that  prompted  her  to  ride  a 
little  distance  with  her — this  and  her  father's  sug- 
gestion that  she  should  go  along  to  keep  the  girl 
company  as  well  as  to  get  into  the  air  a  little 
herself. 

Their  conversation  had  never  turned  to  King 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      221 

Howden,  except  when  they  had  referred  to  his 
condition.  It  was  all  the  more  surprising  to 
Cherry,  then,  when,  after  a  long  silence  during 
which  they  had  been  riding  slowly  and  lost  in 
their  own  thoughts,  Anne  spoke  very  quietly  and 
with  some  feeling  concerning  King. 

"I'm  goin'  back  to  town  because  there's  nothin' 
else  to  it  for  me,"  she  said.  "If  I  had  my  own 
way — I'd  stay  by  that  boy  till  he  was  ready  to 
come  back." 

Cherry  was  startled  at  the  girl's  words  and  her 
face  expressed  something  of  what  she  felt.  Anne 
glanced  at  her  and  hastened  to  continue. 

"Oh,  don't  get  me  wrong  on  that,"  she  said 
apologetically.  "I  know  you'll  do  what's  right — 
do  it  better  than  I  could." 

"I  don't  misunderstand  you,"  Cherry  replied, 
and  to  herself  she  wished  Anne's  words  could 
have  meant  something  different  from  the  mean- 
ing she  had  taken  from  them. 

"He's  right,"  Anne  continued,  without  more 
than  a  glance  to  satisfy  Cherry;  "he's  right — an' 
that's  sayin'  something.  I'm  older  than  you — 
though  twenty-five  ought  to  be  young  enough  for 
anyone — but  I've  seen  a  few  men — an'  a  mighty 
lot  of  what  passes  for  men — an'  I'll  tell  you  this, 
when  you  find  a  man  that's  on  the  level  you 


222      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

can't  help  wantin'  to  keep  him  round.  But — 
Lord,  Anne's  gettin'  sentimental." 

She  broke  off  suddenly  and  gave  her  rein  a 
shake,  and  the  next  moment  was  off  along  the 
trail  with  Cherry  following  at  an  easy,  loping 
gait  behind  her. 

They  rode  thus  in  silence  until  they  came  to  the 
bridge  over  the  White  Pine,  The  water  had  gone 
down  almost  as  suddenly  as  it  had  risen,  and 
the  crossing  presented  no  difficulty  whatever. 
Cherry  waited  till  Anne  had  got  safely  over  to 
the  other  side,  and  then,  after  an  exchange  of 
farewells,  turned  back  towards  the  camp. 

Cherry's  mind  was  busy  every  moment  of  the 
ride  home  that  morning.  Anne  was  a  strange 
girl,  behind  whose  jaunty  manner,  she  felt  sure, 
were  hidden  heart-breaks  and  disappointments 
that  the  outside  world  knew  nothing  of.  Cherry 
had  talked  with  her  only  a  very  little,  had  never 
really  come  to  know  her  at  all,  in  fact — and  had 
never  thought  of  her  as  anything  more  than  just 
Anne,  the  girl  in  MacMurray's  lodging-house. 
And  yet,  in  her  presence,  Cherry  felt  a  subtle 
power — the  power  that  comes  from  long  and  hard 
experience,  that  made  it  difficult  even  to  talk 
much. 

But  always,  as  Cherry  thought  about  her,  there 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      223 

arose  in  the  background  an  image  of  King 
Howden  standing  in  the  open  doorway  of  the 
lodging-house  with  his  arm  about  the  girl,  all 
but  hidden  in  the  gathering  dusk.  And  some- 
how she  could  not  resist  the  thought  that  Anne's 
words  fully  confirmed  what  she  had  first  feared 
that  evening  when  she  rode  so  unexpectedly  to 
MacMurray's  door.  The  single  hope  to  which 
she  had  clung  in  moments  of  depression,  when 
disaster  seemed  about  to  break  upon  her  world, 
was  fast  slipping  away  from  her  and  she  was  be- 
ing left  to  fight  the  battle  alone. 

And  yet 

Late  that  afternoon  Cherry  took  King's  clothes 
from  his  room  with  the  intention  of  hanging 
them  outside  for  an  hour  before  laying  them  away 
until  he  should  be  able  to  wear  them  again.  It 
was  a  small  service  and  an  insignificant  one,  and 
yet  she  lingered  over  the  task  affectionately, 
shaking  the  dust  from  them  and  spreading  them 
out  flat  upon  the  table,  to  smooth  away  the 
wrinkles.  Gabe  Smith,  grown  garrulous  again 
because  of  renewed  hopes  of  King's  early  re- 
covery, was  watching  the  process  from  beside  the 
doorway. 

"Don't  you  think  you're  some  tender  with  that 
coat?"  he  asked.  "Shake  it  well— there's  a  sight 
o'  dust  in  that  old  jacket!" 


224      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

For  reply  she  threw  the  coat  towards  him. 

"Here,  Gabe,"  she  remarked  dryly,  "why  sit 
there  and  watch  me  do  the  dirty  work?" 

As  he  put  out  his  hands  to  receive  the  coat 
something  fell  from  one  of  the  pockets.  Cherry 
stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  then  held  it  towards 
Gabe.  It  was  a  small  bundle  of  folded  papers. 
Gabe  took  it,  and  at  the  first  glance  his  old  face 
almost  went  white. 

"My  God!"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"Why,  Gabe,  what's  wrong?"  Cherry  asked. 

"I  forgot,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  papers  in  his 
hand.  "It's  the  location — the  timber  claim. 
And  McCartney — McCartney's  been  away  from 
camp  since — I  don't  know.  We're  beat." 

And  even  as  Gabe  Smith  spoke  those  words 
Hugh  Hurley  was  sitting  in  his  office  in  The 
Town,  looking  through  his  little  window  to  where 
the  valley  lay  smiling  under  the  late  afternoon 
sun.  He  was  troubled  in  spirit — more  troubled 
than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time.  Less  than  an 
hour  had  elapsed  since  an  unwelcome  visitor  had 
come  to  town.  But  already  the  visitor's  name 
was  scrawled  in  the  big  registry  book  where 
claims  were  officially  recorded.  The  claim  was 
an  extensive  one  in  the  hills  that  rose  to  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      225 

south  of  The  Town,  some  ten  or  fifteen  miles 
away — and  the  name  on  the  record  was  the  name 
of  Bill  McCartney. 

Besides  Hugh  Hurley  there  was  but  one  other 
person  in  that  sleepy  little  town,  more  sleepy 
and  settled,  it  seemed,  than  ever — whose  spirit 
was  not  all  calm.  McCartney  had  stepped  out 
of  Cheney's  place  and  was  standing  in  the  street 
by  himself,  rolling  a  cigarette  in  a  leisurely 
manner  that  was  contentment  itself.  He  lifted 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  and  caught  sight  of  Anne 
coming  towards  him.  What  was  almost  a  frown 
passed  quickly  across  his  face,  but  was  imme- 
diately replaced  by  a  look  of  amusement,  feigned 
or  genuine  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  say, 
and  he  continued  to  roll  his  cigarette  without  the 
slightest  indication  that  he  knew  of  the  girl's 
approach. 

Anne  came  up  to  him  without  as  much  as  a 
moment's  pause  and  stood  directly  in  front  of 
him. 

"What  are  you  doin'  in  town?"  she  asked. 

McCartney  grunted  and  ran  the  tip  of  his 
tongue  along  the  edge  of  the  cigarette  paper. 

"Conductin'  a  revival  meetin',  Anne,"  he  said, 
folding  the  paper  into  place.  "Why?" 

"Wherever  you   are  there's    somethin'   dirty 


226      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

gettin'  under  way,  if  it  ain't  already  done — that's 
why,"  Anne  replied. 

McCartney's  face  still  grinned,  but  his  heart 
was  not  in  the  smile  with  which  he  turned  to  her. 

"Anne,"  he  said,  "you're  a  female — lonse- 
quence  is  you  can  say  what  you  please.  It  ain't 
nice  to  say  it,  but  I  wish  you  was  a  man." 

"Lord !"  Anne  replied,  "ain't  I  wished  the  same 
thing  about  three  million  times  in  two  years.  An' 
the  wishes  are  all  crowdin'  each  other  right  now, 
Bill." 

She  walked  away  and  McCartney  struck  a 
match  and  touched  it  to  his  cigarette  without 
speaking  a  word. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

GABE  SMITH'S  one  concern  after  he  had 
discovered  his  oversight,  was  to  do  every- 
thing in  his  power  to  minimize  the  conse- 
quences. He  went  at  once  in  search  of  Keith 
McBain.  The  old  contractor  was  out  on  the 
grade  looking  over  the  ground  in  the  hope  that 
operations  might  be  got  under  way  again  first 
thing  in  the  morning. 

Gabe  lost  no  time  in  unburdening  his  mind. 
He  gave  the  packet  at  once  to  Keith  McBain  and 
then,  as  briefly  and  as  pointedly  as  possible,  ex- 
plained to  him  what  King  had  feared  when  he 
made  the  papers  out,  and  what  his  plan  had  been 
in  case  anything  of  an  unexpected  nature  should 
occur. 

Keith  McBain  took  the  papers,  and  opening 
them,  looked  through  them  slowly  and  quietly, 
while  Gabe  told  his  story.  Had  Gabe  not  been 
accustomed  to  the  ways  of  his  old  boss  he  might 
have  felt  crestfallen  at  the  apparent  lack  of  effect 
which  his  spirited  exposition  produced  in  Old 
Silent.  It  is  doubtful  whether  in  Gabe's  whole 

227 


228      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

life  he  had  ever  been  so  excited — his  piping  voice 
was  thinner  and  higher  than  ever.  But  when  he 
had  finished,  Keith  McBain  failed  to  respond  by 
so  much  as  a  single  word.  For  some  minutes  he 
continued  to  look  at  the  roughly-drawn  maps 
that  King  had  made.  He  seemed  to  be  reading 
the  specifications  over  and  over  again  to  himself. 
But  Gabe,  for  all  that  he  was  excited,  had  not 
failed  to  catch  the  look  of  concern  that  grew  in 
Keith  McBain's  face  as  he  lingered  over  the 
papers. 

When  the  old  contractor  spoke  at  last  his  face 
was  more  serious  than  it  had  ever  been  before,  so 
far  as  Gabe  Smith's  memory  served  him,  and  his 
words  came  only  with  difficulty. 

"You  can  leave  these  with  me,  Gabe,"  he  said, 
folding  the  papers  again  very  slowly  and  allowing 
his  eyes  to  wander  off  along  the  narrowing  per- 
spective of  the  right-of-way  as  he  spoke. 

Keith  McBain's  mind  had  turned  towards 
things  that  were  beyond  Gabe  Smith's  ken,  and 
conversation  was  at  an  end. 

Gabe  turned  and  took  his  way  alone  back  to 
the  camp,  but  as  he  was  leaving  the  right-of-way 
he  looked  behind  him  to  see  what  had  become  of 
his  old  boss.  He  was  far  up  the  right-of-way, 
picking  his  way  carefully  along,  his  hands  clasped 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      229 

behind  his  back,  never  casting  a  look  behind  him. 

It  was  very  late  that  evening  when  Keith  Mc- 
Bain  returned  to  the  cabin  and  sat  down  to  the 
supper  that  Cherry  had  prepared  for  him.  And 
as  he  ate  he  was  very  silent.  At  last,  when  he 
had  finished  eating,  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  was 
very  low  and  quiet. 

"Cherry,  my  girl,"  he  said,  "come  over  here." 

Cherry  left  the  couch  where  she  had  been 
sitting  and  hurried  to  her  father,  ready  to  serve 
him,  as  she  thought,  with  something  she  had  for- 
gotten to  place  on  the  table.  Her  face  expressed 
what  was  in  her  mind. 

"No — there's  nothing  I  want,  girl,"  he  said, 
with  a  little  wave  of  his  hand.  "Just  stand  be- 
side me  here." 

Cherry  came  close  to  his  chair  and  laid  her 
hand  across  her  father's  shoulders.  He  put  his 
arm  about  her  and  drew  her  close  to  him,  where 
he  held  her  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 
Then  he  raised  his  face  to  her  and  Cherry  saw 
that  his  eyes  were  shining  in  the  light  from  the 
lamp — there  were  tears  in  them. 

"What  is  it,  father?"  she  asked,  and  placed  a 
hand  very  tenderly  on  his  forehead. 

For  answer  he  drew  her  down  until  she  was  on 
her  knees  beside  his  chair,  and  then  with  one  arm 


230      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

about  her  shoulders  and  one  hand  upon  her 
cheek  he  looked  into  her  face. 

"Cherry,  girl."  he  said  in  a  whisper  that  had  a 
touch  of  great  tenderness  in  it,  "you  had  a  good 
mother." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  and  tried  to  smile  at  him. 

"Your  father — "  he  began,  and  then  stopped. 

"Yes?" 

He  bent  low  above  her  and  kissed  her  hair. 
"Your  father  loves  you,  girl,"  he  spoke  at  last, 
with  tears  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke. 

"Not  more  than  I  love  him,"  Cherry  replied, 
with  a  brave  effort  to  make  her  voice  cheerful. 

"That's  it,  girl,"  he  replied.  "And  we're  going 
to  stand — together?" 

Never  before  had  he  spoken  thus  from  his  heart 
to  her.  Cherry  tried  to  speak,  but  her  voice 
would  not  come.  She  put  her  two  arms  about 
his  neck  and  drawing  his  head  down  upon  her 
shoulder  gave  up  the  struggle  to  keep  back  the 
tears. 

For  a  long  time  they  remained  thus  in  each 
other's  arms,  until  at  last  there  was  a  stirring  in 
the  room  where  King  lay,  and  Cherry  got  up.  Be- 
fore she  left  her  father  she  pressed  his  head  close 
to  her,  and  leaning  over,  kissed  him  on  the  cheek. 
Then  she  hurried  away  to  answer  King's  call. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      231 

Keith  McBain  got  up,  and  putting  on  his  hat, 
went  out  alone  to  look  about  the  camp  before 
turning  in  for  the  night.  Just  before  he  started 
back  for  the  cabin  he  went  to  the  corral  and 
looked  over  his  team.  He  patted  their  flanks  and 
sides  and  rubbed  their  necks  affectionately,  and 
then  spoke  to  the  corral  foreman. 

"I'll  want  the  little  team  first  thing  in  the 
morning,"  he  said,  and  went  out  again. 

When  he  returned  to  the  cabin  Cherry  was 
standing  in  the  doorway, 

"I'll  be  going  to  town  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing," he  said,  as  he  went  into  the  cabin  with  her. 

"Father— please— " 

There  was  pleading  in  her  voice,  the  meaning 
of  which  Keith  McBain  could  not  mistake. 

"No,"  he  said  quickly,  "there'll  be  nothing  this 
time  to  trouble  you — this  time  or  any  other 
time.  That's  all  past,  my  girl." 

Cherry  would  have  kissed  her  father  again  had 
he  not  turned  away  too  quickly  and  gone  to  his 
room. 

The  next  morning  Keith  McBain  was  early  on 
the  grade  and  stayed  long  enough  to  see  that  the 
work  was  going  on  very  much  as  usual.  Mc- 
Cartney had  come  back  to  camp  during  the  night 
and  was  in  his  place  as  foreman  when  the  men 


233      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

'..  . 

took  their  accustomed  places.  Old  Silent  slipped 
away  and  was  not  seen  again  during  the  day. 

Late  that  night  he  drove  into  camp,  gave  his 
team  over  to  the  care  of  the  corral  foreman  and 
went  to  his  cabin  without  a  word  to  any  of  the 
men.  His  only  word  was  to  Cherry,  to  enquire 
— somewhat  more  eagerly  than  usual,  she 
thought — concerning  King's  condition.  Then  he 
ate  his  supper  and  went  to  bed. 

During  the  days  that  followed,  Cherry  watched 
her  father  with  growing  anxiety.  The  care  that 
was  necessary  to  give  King  was  growing  less  each 
day — so  rapid  was  his  recovery,  and  her  mind 
was  more  free  to  dwell  upon  other  things.  It 
had  become  quite  clear  to  her  that  a  change  was 
coming  over  her  father,  though  she  could  not  ac- 
count for  it.  Sometimes  she  found  him  unusu- 
ally cheerful;  he  became  even  talkative  at  times 
— especially  when  he  sat  with  King  in  the  even- 
ings after  the  day's  work  was  done.  On  such  oc- 
casions, when  her  father's  spirits  were  light,  her 
own  joy  scarcely  knew  limits. 

But  as  a  rule,  he  was  silent,  even  morose  at 
times.  He  ate  his  meals  without  speaking.  He 
spent  his  evenings  alone  outside,  where  he  sat 
near  the  doorway  and  smoked  incessantly,  until 
it  was  so  dark  he  could  not  see.  Often  he  left  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      233 

cabin  soon  after  supper  and  went  off  walking  by 
himself  along  the  right-of-way,  or  into  the  hills, 
coming  back  late,  and  apparently  very  tired. 
Something  was  weighing  very  heavily  upon  his 
mind  every  minute  of  the  day.  Sometimes  at 
night,  long  after  he  had  gone  to  bed,  Cherry  heard 
him  coughing  and  tossing  about  restlessly,  un- 
able to  go  to  sleep. 

King,  as  he  grew  daily  stronger,  talked  with 
Cherry  about  her  father.  He  had  not  failed  to 
notice  the  change  that  had  come  over  him,  and 
was  almost  as  anxious  about  him  as  Cherry  her- 
self was.  The  last  conversation  of  any  length 
that  he  had  had  with  Keith  McBain  was  on  the 
first  afternoon  that  King  had  walked  from  his 
room  to  the  chair  that  Cherry  had  placed  for 
him  outside  under  the  tamaracs.  Once  before, 
while  he  was  still  lying  in  bed,  he  had  asked  the 
old  man  about  the  claim  in  the  hills.  Keith  Mc- 
Bain had  dismissed  the  subject  at  once  by  as- 
suring him  in  the  fewest  possible  words  that 
everything  was  all  right.  But  when  he  came 
down  from  the  grade  and  found  King  sitting  out- 
side in  the  warm  sunlight,  and  looking  very  much 
as  he  had  always  looked,  he  had  taken  a  seat 
near  him,  lighted  his  pipe  leisurely — and  had  told 
King  the  whole  truth  about  the  affair.  King  had 


234      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

received  the  news  without  comment,  and  Keith 
McBain,  after  lingering  a  while,  had  left  and 
gone  back  to  where  the  men  were  at  work  on  the 
grade. 

Then  followed  a  week'  during  which  virtually 
nothing  was  said,  except  what  passed  between 
Cherry  and  King,  and  a  word  of  quiet  greet- 
ing now  and  then  when  the  old  man  came  in  to 
eat  his  meals. 

But  during  the  week  King  Howden  and  Cherry 
McBain  faced  together  the  strange  problem  that 
life  had  set  before  them,  not  knowing  exactly 
what  was  hidden  behind  the  silent  bearing  of  the 
man  who  was  at  the  centre  of  it,  conscious  only 
of  the  fact  that  they  were  pleased  to  face  it  to- 
gether. 

King  regained  strength  very  rapidly  and  was 
soon  able  to  take  short  walks  in  the  afternoons 
and  evenings.  He  never  went  alone,  except  when 
Cherry  went  riding.  Then  he  strolled  slowly 
along  the  little  path  that  led  into  the  hills,  the 
path  down  which  he  had  come  with  Cherry  On 
that  afternoon  when  he  had  found  her  picking 
berries  and  had  come  back  to  supper  with  her. 

On  one  of  these  little  strolls  he  had  gone  as 
far  as  the  pool  beside  which  he  had  knelt  with 
her  for  a  drink  of  fresh  water.  Once  again  he 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      235 

knelt  down,  and  placing  his  hands  upon  a  small 
boulder,  leaned  forward  and  took  a  drink.  Again 
he  paused  in  the  act  of  getting  up  and  looked  at 
the  reflection  in  the  water.  His  face  was  thin 
and  his  cheek  showed  pale  under  the  tan.  And 
yet  he  was  gloriously  conscious  of  returning 
vigor.  The  fresh  air,  fragrant  with  the  sweetness 
of  the  pine  woods,  filled  him  with  new  strength 
at  every  breath,  and  his  very  blood  was  riotous 
to  be  in  action  again  and  take  up  the  challenge  of 
life  in  a  young  man's  land. 

And  yet  there  was  one  lingering  regret.  The 
days  that  were  just  coming  to  a  close  had  been 
days  of  sweet  companionship  with  Cherry.  Now 
those  days  were  almost  at  an  end.  In  less  than  a 
week  he  would  get  into  his  saddle  again  and  ride 
away,  with  nothing  but  a  memory  to  carry  with 
him  into  the  days  that  lay  before  him. 

He  sat  down  on  a  fallen  timber  that  lay  close 
to  the  pool  and  afforded  a  natural  resting-place, 
wdl-shaded  and  conveniently  near  the  path.  In 
the  woods  behind  him  he  heard  Sal  leaping  and 
rushing  about,  giving  chase  to  an  imaginary  rab- 
bit, or  barking  a  reply  to  a  saucy  fay.  Already 
the  birds  were  beginning  to  flock.  A  few  score 
descended  like  a  rush  of  wind  and  filled  the 
branches  of  a  near-by  poplar  that  had  already 


236      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

taken  on  its  autumn  colors  and  stood  like  a  yel- 
low flame  against  the  dark  background  of  ever- 
greens. It  was  a  day — and  it  was  the  time  of 
year — when  youth  grows  pensive  and  the  melan- 
choly of  the  year  creeps  into  the  veins  of  one. 

For  a  long  time  King  sat  and  gave  himself 
over  to  the  season's  food.  How  long  he  sat 
he  did  not  know.  He  had  lost,  for  the  time  be- 
ing, his  sense  of  passing  hours.  But  he  was 
awakened  suddenly  by  the  sound  of  someone 
coming,  and  the  next  moment  Cherry  appeared 
and  came  running  down  the  pathway  towards 
him. 

"Isn't  it  funny,"  she  said,  sitting  down  beside 
him  on  the  log,  "but  when  I  came  back  and 
found  you  gone,  I  knew  at  once  you  would  be 
here.  It  seems  the  very  place  for  such  a  day. 
Isn't  it  glorious?" 

"I  think  I'd  like  to  be  getting  better  for  a  long 
time,"  King  replied.  "Don't  you  think  you  could 
have  someone  hit  me  on  the  head  again — just 
hard  enough  to  lay  me  out  for  a  few  days  and 
give  me  a  long  time  to  get  over  it?" 

Cherry  laughed. 

"No-— I  want  to  see  you  like  yourself  again," 
she  replied.  "You  look  more  like  yourself  to-day 
than  you  have  yet." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      237 

She  leaned  towards  him  and  scrutinized  his 
face. 

"And  you're  beginning  to  get  a  little  color 
back,  too,"  she  commented  in  a  very  matter-of- 
fact  tone. 

"Oh,  I'm  feeling  fit — ready  for  the  mail  any 
day  now,"  he  replied.  "And  I  guess  I'll  be  going 
back  to  it  soon — about  the  end  of  the  week." 

"Three  more  days,"  Cherry  mused. 

"It  isn't  long,  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  Cherry  replied,  and  the  conversation 
seemed  to  have  come  to  an  end. 

At  last  King  leaned  forward  a  little  and  looked 
into  the  little  pool  of  water  at  their  feet. 

"If  I  could  talk,"  he  said,  as  if  he  were  think- 
ing aloud,  "if  I  could  only  talk  a  little — I'd  tell 
you  that  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me  since — " 

"Don't  talk  about  that,  King,"  she  said 
quickly.  "I  have  done  nothing." 

King  was  silent  again  for  a  moment. 

"I  guess  I'm  no  talker,  at  all,"  he  said. 

<cYou  do  very  well  sometimes — when  you're 
delirious,"  she  replied,  laughing. 

King  was  no  longer  proof  against  her  playful 
mood.  And  yet  when  he  got  up,  and  taking  her 
hand  in  his,  announced  that  it  was  already  time 
for  Eer  to  go  back  to  the  cabin  if  there  was  to  be 


any  supper  for  her  father,  she"  got  to  her  feet  re- 
luctantly enough  and  walked  away  with  King 
in  a  strange  mood,  and  very  silent. 

After  supper  that  night  Keith  McBain  called 
his  daughter  to  him  where  he  was  sitting  in  his 
accustomed  place,  just  outside  the  doorway.  In 
a  moment  Cherry  entered  the  cabin  again  and 
donned  a  light  jacket. 

"Father  wants  me  to  walk  with  him  a  little," 
she  said  to  King.  <cWe'll  be  back  again  soon," 

King  went  to  the  doorway  and  watched  the  two 
as  they  walked  away  from  the  cottage,  Cherry 
leaning  upon  her  father's  arm.  When  they  had 
disappeared  he  sat  down  and  allowed  his  mind 
to  wander  at  will  over  the  events  of  the  weeks 
that  were  now  coming  to  a  close.  He  was  more 
anxious  than  ever,  now  that  his  plans  in  regard 
to  the  timber  claim  in  the  hills  had  been  frus- 
trated, to  get  back  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  ride, 
and  talk  things  over  with  Hugh  Hurley. 

It  was  quite  dark  by  the  time  Cherry  and  her 
father  returned  to  the  cabin.  King  noticed  at 
once  the  serious  expression  on  Cherry's  face  and 
the  complete  absence  of  any  sign  of  the  playful 
mood  she  displayed  before  going  out  with  her 
father.  She  appeared  not  to  notice  King  where 
he  was  sitting  a  few  feet  from  the  doorway, 
walked  into  the  cabin  without  saying  a  word 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      239 

Keith  McBain,  however,  remained  outside, 
and  drawing  a  chair  towards  King,  sat  down  be- 
side him  and  began  to  talk  at  once. 

"You  are  just  about  well  again,  Howden,"  he 
said,  moving  a  little  closer  in  order  that  he  might 
be  able  to  see  King's  face  in  the  darkness.  "The 
girl  tells  me  that  you  will  be  leaving  us  in  a  few 
days  now — about  the  end  of  the  week." 

"I  think  so,  sir,"  King  replied.  "I  have 
wanted  to  tell  you  how  much  I  owe " 

"Tut,  tut,  man — that's  nothing  1"  the  old  man 
broke  in.  "No — we  all  do  such  things — any  of 
us  when  the  need  comes.  You  may  have  to  take 
me  in  some  time — who  knows?" 

"If  the  time  ever  comes "  King  began. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  he  interrupted  again. 
"That's  partly  why  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  How- 
den,  you're  a  young  man  yet — about " 

"Just  past  twenty-eight,  sir,"  King  interjected. 

"Twenty-eight — aye.  I  didn't  think  you  were 
so  old  even  as  that.  Still  that's  young  enough 
for  one  of  your  experience." 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  during  which  he 
seemed  to  be  thinking  very  hard. 

"There  was  something  I  have  thought  lately 
I'd  like  to  tell  you,"  he  went  on  at  last.  "I  want 
tq  tell  you  because  I  think  you  can  listen  with  a 
ears  and  understand  with  a  man's  heart. 


Men  don't  go  through  life  as  a  rule,  Howden, 
without  carrying  a  few  secrets  along  with  them. 
The  most  of  us  have  memories  that  we'd  gladly 
forget — if  we  could.  All  of  us  have  our  secrets 
— things  we  never  tell,  even  to  our  best  friends. 
And  there's  nothing  wrong  with  that — it  would 
be  wrong  if  we  told  it.  The  world  is  a  pretty 
fair  sort,  my  boy,  and  life  is  worth  living,  in  spite 
of  the  wrongs  we  do.  It  isn't  such  a  bad  rule, 
Pve  found,  to  keep  your  mouth  shut — if  opening 
it  is  going  to  cause  trouble  for  anyone." 

He  was  silent  for  a  while,  as  if  he  wished  the 
truth  of  his  statement  to  sink  deep  into  King's 
mind. 

"But  there  are  times  when  it's  best  to  speak 
out,"  he  went  on.  "A  little  trouble  sometimes 
saves  a  deal  more  later  on.  And  that's  the  point 
I'm  coming  to.  There  was  a  time  in  my  life 
when  I  had  no  secret.  I  went  about  my  work 
every  day  and  had  little  to  worry  me  besides  the 
day's  work  as  it  came.  But  I  grew  ambitious. 
When  you  see  a  man  that's  over-ambitious  you 
can  count  on  trouble  lying  somewhere  waiting  for 
him.  There  are  too  many  ambitious  men  in  the 
world,  Howden,  to  make  it  easy  for  anyone  to  be 
ambitious  and  He  Kappy.  There  were  two  of  us 
— a  man  I  thought  was  a  friend — and  I'm  not 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      241 

often  fooled  in  men — and  myself.  When  we 
found  things  were  going  too  slow  to  satisfy  us 
we  went  west  to  the  mines  for  one  season  and 
staked  some  claims.  We  stayed  the  winter  in  a 
little  mining  town  that  didn't  live  long  enough  to 
get  a  name  for  itself.  There  isn't  a  man  on  the 
ground  now.  But  for  one  season  it  was  a  lively 
place.  Another  man  joined  us  after  we'd  been 
there  a  short  time  and  the  three  of  us  went  pros- 
pecting together.  We  were  out  for  weeks  on  one 
trip  without  any  luck,  until  we  gave  up  and 
started  back  to  camp.  When  men  have  tramped 
for  weeks  together  through  blizzards,  and  broken 
fresh  trails  against  howling  winds;  they're  either 
going  to  be  great  friends,  or  they're  going  to 
break.  I  was  the  oldest — the  other  two  were 
young  and  better  able  to  stand  it  than  I  was. 
And  it  wasn't  long  before  I  began  to  feel  as  if  I 
was  in  the  way.  The  grub  was  getting  low,  too, 
and  hungry  men  are  not  good  companions  on  the 
road.  Last  day  out  from  camp  the  impossible 
happened.  After  going  for  weeks  without  luck 
of  any  kind  we  ran  upon  it  when  we  were  least 
expecting  it.  The  fact  is,  Howden,  I  ran  upon 
it.  I  found  it — and  I  claimed  it  for  my  own,  for 
the  other  two  had  told  me  they  couldn't  hold 
back  for  me  any  longer  and  had  gone  on.  That 


242      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

night  I  got  into  camp — they  had  got  in  early  in 
the  day.  There  was  a  lot  of  drinking  going  on, 
and  about  midnight  there  was  a  fight." 

Keith  McBain  placed  his  hand  over  his  eyes 
for  a  moment  and  then  ran  his  fingers  slowly 
across  his  forehead. 

"I  never  knew  exactly  what  happened.  All  I 
remember  was  some  shots  and  a  man  lying  on 
the  floor.  I  had  a  gun  in  my  hand — and  it  was 
smoking.  The  thought  of  what  I  had  done 
sobered  me  at  once,  and  my  first  fear  was  for  my 
wife  and  girl.  Had  it  not  been  for  them,  How- 
den,  I  swear  I'd  have  given  myself  up  right  there. 
But  I  couldn't  do  that.  I  asked  the  other  man — 
the  man  I  thought  was  my  friend — you  may  as 
well  know  who — it  was  big  Bill  McCartney — I 
asked  him  to  get  me  out  of  it.  At  first  he  argued 
with  me,  but  at  last  I  persuaded  him  and  he 
helped  me  get  away.  In  a  few  days  be  joined  me 
again  and  we  came  back.  Then  one  night  I  made 
a  bargain  with  him.  The  affair  was  to  remain  a 
secret  between  us  and  he  was  to  take  the  claim 
and  get  what  he  could  from  it.  He  went  west 
again  and  I  took  to  the  construction — and  have 
lived  the  life  of  the  damned  ever  since.  I  told 
my  wife — and  she  died.  Then  McCartney  came 
back.  Now  he  wants  everything.  He  knows  he 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      243 

has  my  life  in  his  hands — and  he's  going  to  make 
me  pay.  I  made  him  foreman.  He's  not  satis- 
fied with  that.  He  wanted  the  claim  in  the  hills 
— and  got  it.  Sometimes  I  have  been  glad  he  did 
get  it.  I  have  been  afraid  to  stand  before  that 
man,  Howden — the  only  man  I  have  ever  been 
afraid  of.  And  I'm  not  afraid  for  myself  either. 
But  the  girl  there — he  wants  her — has  wanted 
her  for  a  long  time,  and  says  he's  going  to  get  her. 
To-night  I  told  her  the  whole  story — just  as  I've 
told  it  to  you.  And  she  says  if  the  price  has  to 
be  paid — she'll  pay  it.  That's  Cherry,  my  boy. 
The  hour  has  come  for  me,  Howden.  We  can't 
run  camp  very  late  this  year.  The  weather's  been 
bad.  When  the  break-up  comes,  there  will  be 
plans  to  lay  for  next  year.  McCartney  will  speak 
— there  will  be  words — there  are  always  words 
whejQ  we  talk  business.  But  this  will  be  the  last. 
A  man's  life  is  nothing — he  can  take  me,  but — 
God  in  heaven — there's  a  limit!" 

He  got  up  from  his  chair  and  stood  a  moment 
before  King.  Then  he  extended  his  hand  and 
King  took  it. 

<eWe  shall  speak  of  this  again,  Howden,"  he 
said.  "Now  that  there's  nothing  between  us  we 
can  talk  without  being  afraid.  There'll  be  plans 
to  talk  ove*-  -and  I'd  like  to  talk  them  over  with 
you." 


244      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

He  turned  and  went  into  the  cabin  without  giv- 
ing King  a  chance  to  speak,  and  King  sat  down 
again  and  went  over  in  his  own  mind  the  details 
of  the  story  Keith  McBain  had  told  him. 

It  must  have  been  an  hour  later — King  did  not 
know  how  long  he  had  been  there  alone — when 
he  heard  Cherry's  step  in  the  cabin,  and  lifting 
his  eyes,  saw  her  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"You  must  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
betrayed  the  fact  that  she  had  been  weeping. 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  without  speaking. 
Then  he  got  up  and  turned  towards  her. 

"Come  out  a  minute,  Cherry,"  he  said,  very 
softly. 

She  stepped  down,  and  coming  to  where  he 
stood,  waited  for  him  to  speak.  Taking  her  arm 
he  led  her  off  a  short  distance  along  the  path, 
where  they  had  walked  together  only  a  few  hours 
before.  Neither  of  them  spoke  until  they  had 
reached  a  point  in  the  pathway  from  which  only 
the  light  of  the  cabin  was  visible  through  the 
heavy,  low-hanging  branches  of  the  trees. 

Then  King  stopped  and  faced  her,  with  his 
two  hands  resting  on  her  shoulders. 

"Your  father  has  told  me  the  whole  story, 
Cherry,"  he  said. 

Cherry's  head  dropped  and  her  shoulders  shook 
under  King's  hands. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      245 

"I  didn't  think  it  was  so  bad,"  she  sobbed. 

"Cherry,"  he  said  abruptly,  and  in  a  voice  so 
commanding  that  it  was  almost  harsh. 

The  sobbing  ceased  suddenly  and  Cherry 
looked  up  expectantly. 

"It  ain't  so  bad,"  he  said  in  a  gentler  voice. 

"But  what "  she  began. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied  quickly.  "One 
thing  at  a  time,  I  guess — that's  enough  to  think 
about." 

"But  I  can't  let  father " 

"Wait,"  King  interrupted  again.  "McCart- 
ney's bad — bad  clean  through.  Some  time — 
sooner  or  later — a  bad  man  makes  a  mistake.  I 
think  Bill  McCartney's  mistake  is  about  due. 
He's  made  one  bad  mistake  already — maybe 
more — but  one,  anyhow." 

"What  has  he  done?"  Cherry  asked. 

King,  for  once,  found  it  easy  to  talk. 

"He  has  made  up  his  mind  he'll  have  you,"  he 
replied  quickly.  "But  he's  made  a  mistake.  I'm 
gomg  to  have  you,  Cherry !" 

She  took  a  step  away  from  him  and  regarded 
him  seriously  for  a  moment. 

"There'll  be  some  things  to  settle  first,"  he 
went  on.  "But  when  they're  settled — I'm  com- 
ing." 

For  a  while  Cherry  allowed  her  mind  to  return 


246      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

to  the  doubts  that  had  lurked  there  for  many 
days.  She  wanted  to  ask  King  the  question  that 
had  been  in  her  mind  ever  since  the  evening  she 
had  ridden  into  town  in  the  dusk.  Then  she 
heard  King's  voice  again — slow,  resolute,  and 
touched  with  deep  emotion. 

"Just  now,"  he  said,  "I'd  like  to  kiss  you — but 
I'll  wait — I'll  wait  till  I  deserve  it  more.  Cherry 
McBain,  I'm  going  to  fight  for  you." 

He  drew  her  towards  him  and  looked  long  into 
her  eyes.  Then  he  turned  her  about  and  started 
towards  the  cabin.  Together  they  walked  in  sil- 
ence until  they  were  within  a  few  feet  of  the  door, 
and  then  Cherry  paused  and  turned  to  King. 

"King  Howden,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him, 
"you're — you're  stupid !" 

Before  King  could  make  reply  she  threw  her 
arms  suddenly  around  his  neck  and  kissed  him 
once  impulsively,  passionately,  and  then  fled  into 
the  cabin. 

After  a  while  King  Howden,  wondering  a  great 
deal  about  his  own  stupidity,  passed  into  the 
cabin  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

OCTOBER  set  in  as  no  other  October  had 
done  within  the  memory  of  Keith  Mc- 
Bain. 

"It  does  nothing  but  rain  in  this  country  from 
the  looks  of  things,"  he  said  to  old  Gabe  Smith, 
who  was  going  over  the  works  with  his  old  boss. 
"There's  nothing  for  us  but  an  early  close — we 
may  as  well  shut  down  at  once.  Last  night  the 
sun  set  clear  and — look  at  it  now." 

It  was  late  afternoon  and  the  whole  sky  was 
heavy.  The  sun  had  broken  through  the  clouds 
in  the  west,  but  behind  the  clouds  the  sky  was 
red.  The  breeze  that  rustled  in  the  poplars  was 
chill — even  cold — and  carried  the  yellow  leaves 
before  it,  or  lifted  them  from  the  ground  in  little 
eddying  gusts  that  whirled  sharply  in  the  open  for 
a  moment  and  then  lost  themselves  in  the  closer 
branches  of  the  shrubbery. 

'We've  had  frost  nearly  every  night  this 
week,"  Gabe  offered  by  way  of  corroborating 
what  Keith  McBain  had  said.  "A  little  more 

247 


248      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

and  there'll  be  no  workin*  with  the  slushers  at 
all." 

McBain  walked  a  short  distance  in  silence  and 
then  turned  back  towards  the  camp. 

"No  use  going  any  farther,"  he  remarked  at 
last,  as  if  he  were  talking  to  himself.  "This  job's 
about  done,  anyhow,  and  the  next  move  will  be 
clear  up  to  the  valley — just  north  of  town. 
Might  as  well  hustle  up  the  bit  that's  left  here 
and  move  the  outfk  into  town  for  the  winter. 
It'll  give  us  an  early  start  for  the  spring,  any- 
how." 

It  required  all  of  two  weeks  to  complete  what 
was  still  left  of  the  work  Keith  McBain  had  con- 
tracted for  at  that  point  in  the  right-of-way 
where  his  camp  had  stood  for  the  months  of 
August  and  September.  With  good  weather  con- 
ditions it  would  have  been  completed  in  three  or 
four  days.  But  every  morning  found  the  ground 
that  had  been  wet  the  day  before  frozen  into  a 
hard  crust  that  made  work  impossible  until  noon. 
The  work  dragged  along  at  a  rate  that  would 
have  tried  the  patience  of  anyone.  It  kept  Keith 
McBain  in  a  state  of  ill-temper  from  which,  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  two  weeks,  he  never  re- 
covered. 

During  those  two  weeks,  however,  the  men  who 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      249 

worked  for  Keith  McBain  were  conscious  of  a 
change  in  the  old  contractor's  manner  that 
pleased  some  quite  as  much  as  it  displeased 
others.  In  September  it  had  been  freely  ad- 
mitted by  all  that  the  old  man  was  losing  his 
grip.  His  power  was  going.  His  commands 
were  not  always  obeyed,  and  no  one  retreated  be- 
fore his  outbursts  of  profanity  as  they  had  once 
done. 

But  now — Old  Silent  was  back  on  the  job, 
loved  and  hated  as  before,  driving  his  men  reck- 
lessly in  their  labors  and  sparing  himself  ar  little 
as  he  spared  his  men,  building  from  day  to  day, 
as  conditions  permitted,  as  if  the  whole  responsi- 
bility of  constructing  a  great  national  transcon- 
tinental highway  rested  upon  his  shoulders  alone. 
The  change  was  so  complete,  and  so  sudden,  too, 
that  the  men  marvelled.  At  first  they  observed 
it  individually  and  thought  it  over  quietly,  with- 
out offering  any  comment.  Later  they  began  to 
discuss  it  in  groups.  Soon  it  became  the  chief 
topic  of  conversation. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  little  considera- 
tion would  have  been  given  to  Keith  McBain's 
return  to  his  former  habits.  The  men  would 
have  observed  it,  mentioned  it  casually,  perhaps, 
and  with  smiles  on  their  faces — and  gone  back  to 


250      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

their  work.  But  the  circumstances  under  which 
the  change  had  taken  place  were  not  ordinary. 
No  man  in  the  camp — not  even  McCartney — 
could  account  for  it.  The  explanation  was 
hidden  behind  Old  Silent's  grey,  inscrutable 
countenance.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  discussions 
in  which  the  men  engaged  during  the  long,  chilly 
evenings  were  not  prompted  solely — nor  in  the. 
main — by  any  desire  to  find  the  explanation. 

No  one  would  have  spoken  at  any  length  on 
the  subject  had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that 
among  the  men  working  for  Keith  McBain  were 
a  number  who  for  some  time  had  refused  to  ad- 
mit that  Keith  McBain  was  recovering  from  his 
long  period  of  inefficiency  and  weak  manage- 
ment. When  they  were  finally  forced  to  admit 
what  was  so  obvious  that  no  one  could  remain 
blind  to  it,  they  became  violent  in  their  dislike 
for  his  harsh  methods  and  intolerant  moods. 
When  they  could  no  longer  discredit  him  they 
began  to  denounce  him.  The  group  was  a  for- 
midable element  in  camp — and  was  led  osten- 
sibly by  McCartney,  who  doubtless  saw  one  of 
his  fondest  hopes  declining. 

One  incident  that  occurred  during  those  two 
weeks  marked  the  turning  point  in  all  the  dis- 
cussions that  were  going  on.  The  night  had 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      251 

been  cold,  with  rain  and  a  little  snow,  the  first 
of  the  season.  The  morning  was  wet,  and  under- 
foot the  ground  was  slushy.  The  men  had  risen 
at  the  usual  time  and  gone  to  breakfast  at  the 
sound  of  the  gong.  When  breakfast  was  almost 
over,  but  before  any  man  had  yet  risen  from  the 
table,  Keith  McBain  appeared  in  the  doorway  of 
the  cook-camp  and  ordered  the  men  out  as  usual. 
No  word  was  spoken  in  reply  and  McBain,  after 
waiting  a  moment  in  the  doorway  of  the  camp, 
went  out  to  prepare  for  the  day's  work.  No 
sooner  had  he  disappeared  than  protests  broke 
loose  from  fully  half  the  men  at  once.  They 
appealed  to  McCartney,  and  leaving  the  table, 
went  off  in  a  surly  mood  to  the  bunk  house,  con- 
fident that,  if  anything  could  be  done,  McCartney 
would  do  it.  McBain  himself  was  already  out 
on  the  grade,  and  McCartney  strode  over  boldly 
to  apprise  him  of  the  temper  of  the  men. 

Not  more  than  three  of  the  men  heard  the  in- 
terview between  Old  Silent  and  his  foreman. 
But  all  three  heard  alike — and  the  reports  that 
all  three  brought  in  concerning  what  they  had 
seen  were  sufficiently  similar  to  leave  no  one  in 
doubt  as  to  their  being,  in  the  main,  correct. 
McCartney's  first  word  had  brought  Keith  Mc- 
Bain down  on  him  like  a  hurricane,  before  which 


252      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

the  foreman  had  capitulated,  even  cringed,  and 
had  asked  the  old  boss  to  speak  to  the  men  him- 
self. 

And  Keith  McBain  had  spoken  to  the  men, 
with  the  result  that  only  two  in  the  whole  camp 
refused  to  go  to  work'.  These  he  promptly 
handed  over  to  the  time-keeper,  who  gave  them 
their  time,  and  Keith  McBain  personally  super- 
vised their  departure  from  camp  before  he  went 
back  to  his  men  on  the  grade. 

From  that  time  forward  there  was  no  doubt- 
ing that  the  old  railroad  boss  was  still  to  be 
seriously  reckoned  with  by  any  man  who  ques- 
tioned his  ability  to  look  after  his  own  affairs. 
From  that  time  forward,  moreover,  the  question 
was  not  so  much  one  of  whether  Keith  McBain 
was  as  strong  a  man  as  Bill  McCartney.  It  was 
rather  a  question  of  which  of  the  two  men  they 
were  prepared  to  follow.  For  McCartney  had 
sworn  in  the  presence  of  everyone  that  night 
that  he  was  going  to  break  Keith  McBain,  and 
do  it  so  completely  that — well,  they  were  to 
watch  him  and  they  would  see  for  themselves. 

That  night  the  camp  was  split  into  two  fac- 
tions. The  division  had  been  creeping  in  for 
months.  It  was  now  complete.  On  one  side  were 
the  men  who  had  succumbed  to  McCartney's 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      253 

loud  boastings,  and  had  found  in  certain  dark 
hints  that  he  had  given  concerning  the  old  con- 
tractor's past,  good  food  for  fattening  an  old- 
time  grudge.  On  the  other  side  were  the  men 
who  hated  McCartney  as  much  as  they  sym- 
pathized with  Keith  McBain,  and  generally 
speaking  there  was  a  strong  affection  for  the  old 
contractor  in  spite  of  his  harsh  manner.  Night 
after  night  during  those  two  weeks  the  breach 
between  the  two  factions  broadened,  and  on  a 
half-dozen  occasions  threatened  to  end  in  a  free 
fight. 

In  the  meantime  King  Howden  rapidly  re- 
covered his  normal  condition.  Twice  he  had 
gone  to  the  end-of-the-steel  for  the  mail,  and  had 
returned  to  town  after  his  long  trips  in  better 
spirits  than  when  he  had  left.  On  each  trip  he 
managed  to  drop  off  at  McBain's  camp  about 
meal-time,  and  spend  an  hour  or  more  talking 
to  Cherry  and  her  father.  But  not  once  did  the 
difficult  position  in  which  Keith  McBain  was 
placed  come  up  for  discussion.  Nor  did  King 
Howden  drop  as  much  as  a  hint  to  Cherry  that 
he  still  remembered  the  night  when  he  had  stood 
alone  under  the  tamaracs  and  had  made  known 
his  determination  to  win  in  the  game  he  was 
playing  with  Bill  McCartney. 


254      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

The  third  trip,  however,  was  different  from  the 
others.  Cherry  had  secretly  been  expecting  King 
all  day  long.  He  arrived  finally  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  with  him  Anne.  Cherry  received  the 
girl  with  as  much  cordiality  as  she  could  com- 
mand. The  four  took  supper  together  and  King 
went  at  once,  leaving  Anne  with  Cherry  until 
he  returned. 

That  night  Keith  McBain  retired  early  and 
left  the  two  girls  alone  together.  In  spite  of  her- 
self, Cherry  found  her  heart  warming  towards 
Anne  as  the  evening  wore  on. 

"Don't  you  sometimes  find  it  hard  to  be/  alone 
so  much,  Anne?"  she  asked,  when  their  conver- 
sation had  drifted  into  more  or  less  personal 
channels. 

Anne's  reply  was  at  first  non-committal. 

"Ain't  you  alone,  too?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  Cherry  replied,  "and  I  feel — some- 
times— as  if  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  But 
then — I  have  my  father." 

"Yes,"  Anne  responded,  "it's  different.  An' 
when  you  ask  me  if  I  find  it  hard — I  do.  Some- 
times— well,  I  just  don't  think  about  it.  If  I 
started  thinkin'  I'd  go  crazy.  But  thinkin' 
doesn't  get  you  anywhere," 

They  were  both  silent  for  some  time,  Cherry 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      255 

intent  upon  some  sewing  that  she  was  doing, 
Anne  sitting  watching  her  across  the  table.  At 
last  Cherry  made  another  effort. 

"I  hope  you  won't  think  it  funny  of  me,  Anne," 
she  remarked,  looking  up  at  the  girl  and  smiling, 
"but  I  have  never  known  you  by  anything  other 
than — just  Anne.  King  never  introduced  us 
properly." 

"There's  been  mighty  little  time  for  introducin' 
anyone,"  Anne  replied. 

"Yes ;  but  King  has  never  even  told  me  your 
name,"  Cherry  continued. 

Anne  was  not  quick  to  answer.  "Reason  is," 
she  said  slowly,  after  a  long  pause,  "he  didn't 
know  it  himself." 

Cherry's  face  expressed  surprise. 

"But  I  thought  you  and  he  were  good  friends," 
she  remarked — and  something  of  the  old  Eve  was 
rising  in  her.  She  had  been  struggling  all  even- 
ing to  keep  it  down,  but  now  she  found  herself 
searching  Anne's  face  for  the  slightest  change  of 
color  or  expression  that  would  betray  her  feel- 
ings. 

The  girl  spoke  very  quietly.  "We  are — if  you 
want  to  put  it  like  that,"  she  replied. 

There  was  a  note  in  Anne's  voice  that  was  un- 
mistakably cold,  and  Cherry  reproached  herself 
at  once. 


256      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Really,  Anne,"  she  said,  and  she  turned  her 
eyes  away  as  she  spoke ;  "I  didn't  mean  to  be  oer- 
sonal.  Please  forgive  me." 

"That's  nothin' !"  replied  Anne  quickly.  "Fact 
is — when  I  came  to  the  settlement  I  wanted 
nothin'  better  than  to  be  left  alone.  When  I 
hired  with  McMurray  he  asked  me  my  name  an' 
I  told  him  'Anne'.  If  he'd  asked  what  else — 
I'd  'a'  lied  to  him.  But  he  didn't.  An'  no  one 
else  ever  asked  till  just  now.  I  could  lie  about 
it — but  I'm  not  goin'  to.  When  I  tell  you — I'll 
tell  you  straight.  Better  leave  it  at  that." 

Though  Anne's  voice  was  cold  and  without 
feeling,  Cherry  knew  that  at  heart  the  girl  was 
tender,  even  affectionate.  When  Anne  got  up 
from  where  she  had  been  sitting  and  went  to  the 
window  where  she  stood  looking  out  into  the 
night,  Cherry  set  aside  her  sewing  and  followed 
her.  For  a  moment  she  stood  behind  Anne, 
neither  of  them  speaking  a  word. 

At  last  Cherry  put  her  arms  about  her  and 
Held  her  in  a  warm,  impulsive  embrace. 

"Anne,"  she  said,  "let's  be  friends.  I'm  alone 
— and  so  are  you.  But  you're  older  than  I  am, 
and  I  want  you  to  like  me." 

Anne  turned  to  her  and  looked  at  her  very 
steadily  for  a  long  time  before  she  spoke. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN       257 

"Ain't  you  like  the  rest  of  them?"  she  asked. 

Cherry  did  not  understand  the  question. 

"What  rest — who?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  the  whole  bunch,"  Anne  jerked  out  im- 
patiently; "the  women  in  the  town.  They  don't 
like  me — an'  they  go  out  o'  the  way  to  show  it. 
God! — sometimes  I  hate  to  think  I  belong  to 
them — but  they  ain't  women." 

"Oh,  yes,  they  are,  Anne,"  Cherry  replied,  "but 
they  don't  understand,  that's  all." 

"Understand?  Understand — nothin'!  I  was 
ready  to  like  them  before  I  understood  them. 
When  I  got  to  understand  them — I  passed  'em 
up.  One  good  thing — they  ain't  many — so  it 
don't  matter  much." 

"Well,  don't  put  me  with  them,  Anne,"  Cherry 
returned. 

Anne  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  when  she  did 
there  was  caution  in  her  tone. 

"Do  you  remember  the  first  time  you  saw 
me?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

Cherry  had  remembered — the  memory  of  it 
had  burned  itself  into  her  brain. 

"Did  you  speak  to  me  then  as  if  you  under- 
stood?" Anne  questioned. 

Cherry  remained  silent. 


258      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"An'  then  for  two  days,"  Anne  continued,  "did 
you  act  like  you  understood  and  wanted  to  be 
friends?" 

Cherry  could  stand  the  questioning  no  longer. 

"Anne,  Anne,"  she  pleaded,  "don't  talk  like 
that.  Let  me  tell  you — can't  you  see  what  it  all 
means.  Anne — I  love  him — I  was  jealous." 

"Jealous  ?"  Anne  stood  back  from  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

"When  I  saw  you  standing ." 

"You  mean  King?"  Anne  asked  her  suddenly. 

Cherry  nodded  her  head. 

At  first  Anne  seemed  about  to  laugh,  but  the 
smile  died  on  her  lips. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  said.  "Where'd  you  get 
that?  If  I  was  goin'  to  pick  someone  right  now — 
I'd  pick  King  Howden.  But  I  ain't  pickin'  any- 
one, an*  I'll  tell  you  why.  Now,  you  get  this 
straight.  In  the  first  place  he  wouldn't  stand 
for  me,  that's  all  there  is  to  that.  He  never  told 
me,  because  we  never  talked  about  it — but  I 
don't  have  to  be  told.  Anyhow,  all  that  don't 
matter — it's  nowhere  with  me.  There's  another 
reason — I  ain't  lookin'  for  a  partner.  I  wasn't 
goin'  to  tell  you  this — but  you  might  as  well 
know." 

She  paused  a  moment  and  looked  at  Chgrry. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      259 

"D'you  know,"  she  continued  meditatively, 
"1  didn't  want  to  make  this  trip  down  here  this 
timfi,  I  wasn't  comin',  only  King  Howden  told 
me  to  come  an'  get  on  talkin'  terms  with  you.  I 
didn't  like  you — but  I  came  because  he  wanted 
me  to.  That's  how  much  I  like  him,  an'  it's  a' 
whoje  lot.  But  I'm  glad  I  came.  I  think  I'll  get 
to  likin'  you — I  like  you  now — or  I  wouldn't  tell 
you  what  I  never  told  another  soul  in  this  part  o' 
the  world.  The  reason  I  ain't  choosin'  anythin* 
particular  among  the  legible  gents  that's  hangin' 
rouixd  is  that  I — I  made  a  choice  once.  It  was 
sure  a  bad  one,  but — I'm  standin'  by  it." 

"You're  not  married,  Anne?"  exclaimed 
Cherry  in  surprise. 

Anne  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"I  was  once,  anyhow,"  she  commented  with  a 
smile. 

Cherry  could  say  nothing  in  reply — so  com- 
plete was  her  surprise. 

"Just  now,"  Anne  added,  after  a  moment  of 
silence,  "I'm  doin'  what  most  women  have  to  do 
sooner  or  later — I'm  stayin*  round  to  keep  my 
old  man  from  makin*  an  ass  of  himself.  The 
most  of  'em  will  do  it  if  they're  left  alone." 

"Then  he's  here?"  Cherry  exclaimed  with  fresK 
surprise. 


260      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Lord,  yes — he's  here,"  Anne  replied. 

When  Cherry  did  not  reply  Anne  took  her 
hands  and  looked  long  and  steadily  into  her 
eyes. 

"My  name,"  she  said  slowly,  "is  Anne — Anne 
McCartney." 

For  once  Cherry  checked  herself  before  she  put 
her  thoughts  into  words.  She  drew  Anne  to- 
wards her  and  held  her  close  for  a  long  time  in 
silence. 

In  her  heart  was  a  riot  of  confused  emotions. 
She  could  not  resist  the  overwhelming  satisfac- 
tion she  felt  upon  learning  at  last  that  her  sus- 
picions concerning  King  were  foolish  and  without 
foundation.  She  reproached  herself  inwardly  for 
having  entertained  such  fears.  Then  her  self-re- 
proach vanished  before  the  supreme  joy  that 
came  to  her — he  was  still  the  man  she  had  known 
him  to  be  when  first  they  rode  together  on  the 
trail.  It  was  only  natural  that  the  hatred  she 
had  for  McCartney  should  now  cause  her  some 
uneasiness  in  the  presence  of  the  woman  who 
bore  his  name.  In  the  end  her  heart  went  out  in 
pity  to  the  girl  who  was  struggling  through  life 
with  a  burden  such  as  she  herself  knew  nothing 
of. 

It  was  this  feeling  that  was  strongest  in  her 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      261 

heart  as  she  pressed  Anne  very  close  to  her  and 
kissed  her.  Anne  sensed  at  once  what  was  in 
Cherry's  mind,  and  drew  back. 

"Don't  start  pityin'  me,"  she  said  abruptly. 
"I  did  it — an*  I  did  it  with  my  eyes  open.  An' 
now  that  I've  told  you" — she  put  her  fingers  to 
her  lips — "don't  muss  everything.  You  got  that 
out  o'  me  when  I — I  forgot  myself." 

She  spoke  impatiently,  but  Cherry  hurried  to 
reassure  her. 

"You  can  trust  me,  Anne,"  she  said. 

"When  it  comes  to  that,"  Anne  replied,  "there's 
nobody  like  your  own  self.  Still — I'm  goin*  to 
count  on  you — not  a  word." 

That  night  was  the  longest  night  Cherry  Mc- 
Bain  had  ever  known.  So  many  questions 
chased  each  other  through  her  mind  that  sleep 
was  impossible.  She  felt  herself  the  plaything  of 
a  score  of  different  forces,  at  the  mercy  of  cross- 
currents over  which  she  had  no  control  and 
against  which  it  was  useless  for  her  to  battle. 

One  thing  especially  troubled  her.  Should  she 
have  told  Anne  all  she  knew  about  McCartney? 
She  had  hesitated  because  her  father  was  so 
vitally  involved.  Besides,  she  didn't  know  what 
plans  were  in  King's  mind.  When  the  first  grey 
of  the  dawn  came  through  her  window  she  had 


263      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

come  to  a  decision :  she  would  tell  Anne  all  about 
it  in  the  morning. 

When  they  were  alone  together  after  they  had 
eaten  their  breakfast,  Cherry  summoned  all  her 
courage  and  began  her  story.  Anne  stopped  her 
before  she  had  spoken  a  dozen  words. 

You're  not  tellin'  me  a  thing  I  don't  know," 
sEe  said.  "Didn't  I  say  I  was  here  to  keep  Bill 
McCartney  from  playin*  the  damn  fool?  Well, 
he'll  do  that  in  spite  of  me — but  I'm  not  goin'  to 
let  him  make  as  big  a  fool  of  others  as  he  has  of 
me.  Let's  go  and  look  at  the  horses." 

Early  that  afternoon  King  arrived,  and  Anne 
went  back  to  town  with  him.  Cherry  stood  on 
the  trail  at  the  end  of  the  pathway  leading  from 
the  cabin,  and  watched  them  until  they  were 
out  of  sight.  She  was  on  the  point  of  turjiing 
back  again  to  the  cabin  when  she  caught  sight  of 
her  father  coming  towards  her. 

"Well,  girl,"  said  Keith  McBain  when  he  had 
joined  her,  "the  work's  over.  We  begin  moving 
the  outfit  to-morrow." 

Cherry  had  been  expecting  the  announcement 
every  day  for  the  past  week,  but  when  it  actually 
came  at  last  it  found  her  sad  in  the  though.!  of 
leaving  the  spot  where  all  that  had  ever  matured 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      263 

mudi  in  her  life — save  the  death  of  her  mother — 
had  occurred. 

"I  can  get  ready  any  time,  father,"  she  re- 
plied. "But — I'll  hate  to  leave  my  trees — and 
my  cabin — and  my  hills." 

The  old  man  looked  down  at  his  daughter  and 
smiled.  Then  he  put  his  arm  about  her  and  the 
two  went  off  down  the  pathway  together. 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

THE  next  day  Keith  McBain's  men  began 
to  break  up  the  old  camp.  By  night  the 
first  wagons  were  loaded  and  ready  for  the 
trail  in  the  morning.  McBain's  decision  to  store 
his  outfit  in  The  Town  rather  than  take  it  to  the 
end-bf-the-steel,  met  with  the  men's  approval.  It 
meant  a  shorter  haul,  'and  it  meant  a  foregather- 
ing of  the  men  from  farther  up  the  line,  includ- 
ing Rubble's  gang,  as  a  sort  of  final  wind-up  of 
the  season's  'activities.  In  three  days  there  was 
nothing  left  of  the  old  camp,  except  a  few  walls 
and  foundations — and  the  little  log  cabin  in  the 
shelter  of  the  tamaracs.  Keith  McBain  had  ac- 
ceded to  his  daughter's  wish  to  remain  "just  an- 
other day,"  and  had  allowed  his  men,  under  the 
supervision  of  McCartney  and  Gabe  Smith,  to  go 
ahead  and  complete  the  task  of  putting  the  outfit 
under  cover  and  preparing  winter  shelter  for  the 
horses. 

When  Cherry  and  her  father  arrived  just  a  day 
after  the  last  freight  team,  the  place  had  already 

264 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      265 

begun  to  take  on  a  holiday  appearance.  They 
were  met  by  Hugh  Hurley,  who  took  them  at 
once  to  his  cottage,  where  he  insisted  upon  their 
staying  until  McBaih  could  have  a  cabin  of  his 
own  erected.  Leaving  Cherry  with  Mrs.  Hurley, 
Old  Silent  went  out  to  see  what  had  been  accom- 
plished by  his  men.  Scarcely  an  hour's  work  had 
been  done,  under  either  old  Gabe  or  McCartney, 
towards  storing  the  equipment,  and  half  the  men 
were  already  showing  the  effects  of  frequent  visits 
to  Cheney's.  Gabe  was  the  first  to  meet  Mc- 
Bain  when  he  arrived,  and  at  once  he  confessed 
that  scarcely  a  thing  had  been  accomplished. 
The  old  contractor  laid  his  plans  carefully  and 
with  quiet  deliberation.  He  had  a  long  talk  with 
Hugh  Hurley,  and  together  the  two  visited  King 
Howden  in  his  shack  on  the  ridge,  where  the  three 
talked  late  into  the  night. 

Next  morning  Keith  McBain  was  out  at  day- 
break rounding  up  his  gang  and  getting  them 
ready  for  the  day's  work.  He  found  nearly  half 
of  them  unable  to  report  for  duty,  but  the  others 
responded  readily,  and  were  soon  at  work  haul- 
ing timbers  and  clearing  spaces  for  the  erection 
of  the  corrals.  When  they  were  well  under  way 
McBain  went  to  Hurley's  office,  where  he  found 
King  Howden,  and  bringing  him  out,  put  him  ia 
charge  of  the  men. 


266      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

UntU  noon  the  work  went  along  quite 
smoothly,  and  Keith  McBain  watched  King  with 
appro\sal  growing  in  his  heart.  Noon,  however, 
brought  the  discovery  to  McCartney,  and  to  those 
who  had  not  responded  to  McBain's  call,  that  the 
work  was  apparently  proceeding  successfully 
without  them.  For  an  hour  or  so  there  were 
petty  councils  here  and  there,  in  MacMurray's 
and  Cheney's  places  particularly,  and  one  by 
one  the  men  stepped  away  and  went  to  work, 
though  many  of  them  took  their  directions  from 
King  with  ill  enough  grace.  Keith  McBain  and 
Hugh  Hurley  watched  the  process  from  the  tat- 
ter's office,  and  smiled  to  themselves  at  what  they 
saw.  Before  night  a  scant  half  dozen  were  all 
that  remained  aloof  from  the  operations — these 
and  Bill  McCartney,  who  had  stayed  discreetly 
apart  all  day. 

Nightfall  found  Cheney's  place  crowded  to  the 
door.  There  was  a  feeling  of  expectancy  in  the 
air  and  the  men  gathered  quickly  and  fell  to  dis- 
cussing the  events  of  the  day.  But  discussion  led 
nowhere.  There  seemed  to  be  general  disagree- 
ment on  almost  every  point  that  was  raised. 
McCartney  stood  back  from  the  crowd  with  a 
smile  fixed  on  his  face,  apparently  enjoying  the 
discomfiture  and  allowing  the  men  to  develop 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      267 

their  differences  as  they  wished.  What  he  wanted 
just  now  was  disorganization  and  confusion — the 
more  of  it  the  better.  Any  organization  must  of 
necessity  centre  round  Keith  McBain,  who  was 
the  sole  embodiment  of  authority  of  any  kind  in 
the  place.  When  disorder  had  broken  McBain's 
control  McCartney's  moment  would  arrive.  And 
he  was  confident  that  the  card  he  would  play  was 
sufficiently  high  to  win  the  game. 

The  men  were  not  altogether  blind  to  the 
strangely  quiescent  attitude  that  McCartney  had 
so  suddenly  assumed.  Late  that  night,  when  the 
discussion  was  at  its  highest,  someone  suddenly 
turned  upon  him. 

"Ain't  you  in  on  this,  Bill  McCartney?"  asked 
one  of  the  men  who  had  been  a  participant  in 
more  than  one  heated  argument  during  the 
evening. 

"Sure,  I'm  in  on  it,"  he  replied,  "but  I'm  not 
talkin'  just  now." 

"Not  talkin'  just  now?  Hell,  when  are  you 
goin*  to  do  your  talkin'?" 

By  this  time  the  men  had  turned  their  atten- 
tion to  McCartney,  and  stood  waiting  for  his 
reply. 

"Well,  boys,"  he  said,  with  a  sneer,  "I'll  begin 
talkin'  when  I'm  good  and  ready  to  talk." 


268      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  and  then,  almost 
in  an  instant,  the  confusion  of  voices  was  as  great 
as  ever. 

When  the  general  hubbub  was  at  its  highest 
Tom  Rickard  edged  his  way  towards  McCartney 
and  touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  In  a  moment 
the  two  were  back  against  the  wall  where  they 
could  talk  without  being  overheard. 

"You're  playin'  a  fool's  game,  Bill,"  Rickard 
said  in  a  voice  that  was  scarcely  more  than  a 
whisper.  "You're  lettin'  go  when  you  could 
speak  one  word  and  the  boys  would  back  you  up 
to  a  man." 

McCartney  looked  at  Rickard  a  moment  with 
a  puzzled  expression.  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
settle  with  himself  whether  or  not  Rickard  was 
to  be  trusted.  At  last  he  smiled,  a  little  patron- 
izingly, and  laid  a  hand  upon  Rickard's  shoulder. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  quietly,  "you'd  better  let  me 
play  this  hand  the  way  I  want  to.  I  could  get 
them  to-night — I  know  that — but  I  want  them 
later  on.  I've  got  something  to  say — and  when 
the  time  comes  I'm  goin'  to  say  it — don't  worry. 
But  there's  something  to  be  done  first." 

He  paused  and  gave  Rickard  another  search- 
ing glance. 

"Are  you  still  playin'  this  game  with  me?"  h? 
asked  pointedly. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      269 

Rickard  looked  about  him  quickly.  Then  he 
moved  close  to  McCartney  and  put  out  his  hand. 
McCartney  took  it  and  nudged  him  gently  with 
his  elbow. 

"Come  outside — it's  gettin'  close  in  here." 

They  went  out  without  attracting  any  special 
attention,  and  when  they  had  closed  the  door 
behind  them  McCartney  turned  towards  the 
river.  They  walked  the  full  length  of  the  street 
without  speaking,  stopping  only  once  to  take  a 
glance  through  the  window  at  MacMurray's, 
where  a  crowd  of  men  were  gathered  in  the  front 
room.  When  they  stood  at  last  on  the  bank  of 
the  river,  McCartney  nodded  his  head  towards 
Hurley's  office,  standing  back  a  short  way  from 
the  street.  There  was  a  light  in  the  window. 

"Old  Hugh  is  workin'  late,"  he  said,  with  a 
grunt  of  sarcasm. 

Rickard  followed  McCartney  along  the  bank, 
until  they  came  to  the  space  the  men  had  cleared 
in  the  brush  during  the  day.  A  half  dozen  large 
timbers  had  already  been  hauled  to  the  site  of  the 
new  corral,  and  the  first  four  had  been  squared 
and  fitted  together  to  make  the  foundation.  A 
little  farther  down  a  cut  had  been  made  in  the 
steep  clay  banks  that  ordinarily  rose  some  fif- 
teen feet  above  the  water  in  the  river,  to  provide 


a  passage-way  for  the  horses  going  to  water. 
From  where  they  stood  they  could  see  the  lantern 
in  the  hands  of  the  corral  foreman,  as  he  went 
about  taking  a  last  look  at  the  horses  before  retir- 
ing for  the  night.  Besides  the  stamping  of  the 
horses'  feet  on  the  ground,  there  was  not  a  sound 
except  the  running  of  the  water  in  the  stream 
below  them,  now  swollen  from  the  rains  of  the 
past  couple  of  weeks. 

McCartney  sat  down  quietly  on  one  of  the 
timbers  and  beckoned  Rickard  to  a  place  beside 
him. 

'*This  looks  like  a  bit  of  deep  plottin',"  Mc- 
Cartney said  when  Rickard  was  seated.  "Well, 
forget  the  melodrama,  Tom.  It  may  look  stagey, 
but  I'm  real  serious — an'  I'm  goin'  to  be  real 
careful,  too." 

MacMurray's  door  opened,  letting  out  a  flood 
of  light,  and  McCartney  ceased  speaking  till  the 
door  was  closed. 

"You  were  with  me  on  one  bit  of  business  a 
few  Weeks  ago,  Tom,"  he  continued.  "I've  got 
no  kick  comin' — you  did  all  you  could,  an'  we 
came  pretty  near  to  gettin'  away  with  it  at  that. 
If  the  old  man  could  'a'  been  kept  in  town  an- 
otHer  day  we'd  'a'  swung  the  thing  good.  It 
wouldn't  'a'  mattered  a  damn  whether  he  ever 
came  back." 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      271 

"And  we'd  V  done  it,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
just  one  thing — Anne  handed  the  old  man  an 
ace — an'  he  bobbed  up  in  camp  about  twenty- 
four  hours  too  soon.  And  Anne's  goin'  to  queer 
this  deal  right  through  unless  we  can  keep  her 
out.  Now,  listen  to  me.  I  know  that  girl — just 
between  us,  I  knew  her  before  I  ever  came  here 
— an'  I  can  tell  you  right  now  what  she's  goin' 
to  do.  No  use  goin'  into  cases — but  I  know. 
Anne's  got  to  be  put  away — nothin'  rough,  y'un- 
derstand " 

The  sound  of  someone  approaching  from  be- 
hind them  caused  McCartney  to  cease  speaking 
and  get  up.  The  corral  foreman  was  returning 
to  MacMurray*s. 

"Come  on,"  McCartney  whispered  quickly, 
and  led  the  way,  with  Rickard  following  closely 
behind  him.  They  did  not  exchange  a  word  until 
they  had  gone  some  distance  up  the  street  in  the 
direction  of  Cheney's.  The  presence  of  a  number 
of  men  in  the  street  made  further  conversation 
impossible,  and  they  entered  Cheney's  place, 
where  McCartney  sought  at  once  to  make 
amends  for  his  previous  aloofness  during  the 
evening  by  inviting  the  men  to  come  up  and 
"have  one  on  him." 


In  Hurley's  office  the  three  men,  Keith  Mo 
Bain,  King  Howden  and  Hugh  Hurley  himself, 
sat  late  that  night  reviewing  the  events  of  the  day 
and  considering  their  possible  bearing  on  the  im- 
mediate future.  For  the  benefit  of  Hugh  Hurley, 
Keith  McBain  had  gone  to  some  length  in  tracing 
the  course  of  events  during  the  past  few  weeks. 

"But  what's  his  idea — what's  his  plan?"  asked 
Hurley,  after  McBain  had  completed  his  account. 

Keith  McBain  was  silent  a  moment  before  he 
replied. 

"Bill  McCartney  wants  more — more  than  I 
can  tell  you,  Hurley — he  wants " 

King  saw  the  struggle  that  the  old  man  was 
having  and  came  at  once  to  his  relief. 

"I  guess  he  wants  all  he  can  get,"  he  broke  in. 
"There's  only  one  thing  to  do  now,  Mr.  Hurley 
— we  can't  have  him  round  this  place — he's  got 
to  get  out." 

Hurley  smiled. 

"You're  beginning  to  talk  business,  King,"  re- 
plied Hurley.  "If  you  believe  what  you  say — 
you  ought  to  be  able  to  go  where  your  faith 
leads  you." 

King  looked  at  him  questioningly. 

"I  mean  that  McCartney  will  stay  here  till 
he's  put  out,"  the  old  man  continued. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      273 

"That's  what  I  mean,"  King  replied  quickly. 

Hurley's  smile  broadened.  "I  can't  put  the 
duffer  out." 

"I  didn't  expect  you  could,"  King  responded. 

"Can  you?" 

King  had  asked  himself  the  same  question 
scores  of  times  and  had  made  his  own  reply.  He 
expressed  it  now  as  he  had  expressed  it  to  him- 
self every  time  the  question  had  arisen  in  his 
own  mind. 

"Bill  McCartney  and  King  Howden  can't  live 
in  the  same  place  this  winter,"  he  said,  looking 
straight  into  Hurley's  eyes.  "And  I  ain't  going 
away." 

When  they  had  finished  talking  the  three  men 
shook  hands  quietly.  They  had  entered  into  a 
covenant  on  behalf  of  a  few  hundred  serious  men 
and  women  who  had  set  their  faces  months  be- 
fore towards  the  setting  sun  and  had  followed  the 
trail  over  the  hills  and  into  the  little  valley, 
where  lay  the  only  hopes  that  life  had  still  to 
offer  them — the  hidden  valley  at  the  rainbow's 
end. 

And  two  of  those  three  men  slept  as  men  sleep 
who  are  without  care  and  are  content  with  the 
day  that  is  done.  But  Keith  McBain  could  not 
sleep  for  the  thought  of  the  price  he  had  already 


274      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

paid  and  the  price  that  he  was  even  yet  to  pay 
for  his  own  folly. 

The  week  that  followed  was  one  of  unceasing 
labor  and  careful  vigilance  on  the  part  of  Hugh 
Hurley  and  Keith  McBain.  King  went  forward 
with  the  work  he  had  been  given  to  do  by  Keith 
McBain,  and  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  petty 
obstructions  that  were  being  thrown  in  his  way 
every  day  by  men  who,  though  pretending  to 
serve  their  old  boss,  were  really  actuated  by  the 
designs  of  which  McCartney  was  the  maker  and 
the  inspirer. 

No  one  was  unaware  of  McCartney's  intrigu- 
ing. Signs  of  it  were  in  evidence  everywhere.  In 
spite  of  King's  endeavors  to  hold  his  men  together 
and  secure  concerted  effort,  there  were  little 
breaks  and  hindrances  that  temporarily  offset  his 
best  attempts  to  direct  the  work  along  effective 
lines.  Especially  active  among  those  who  sided 
with  McCartney  was  Tom  Rickard,  who  had 
joined  the  gang  of  men  under  King's  direction 
with  no  other  object  whatever  than  the  frustra- 
tion of  all  efforts  to  produce  harmony  among  the 
men. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  week,  however,  the  di- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      275 

vision  between  the  two  sides,  represented  by  Mc- 
Cartney's supporters  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  by  the  men  who  were  still  faithful  to  Keith 
McBain  and  took  kindly  to  King's  methods,  was 
so  marked  than  an  open  break  seemed  imminent. 
The1  threatening  attitude  of  the  opposition  to 
King  was  so  apparent  that  many  of  his  men  grew 
impatient  with  his  quiet  forbearance. 

To  make  matters  worse,  the  weather,  that  had 
been  so  unfavorable  for  almost  a  month,  had 
turned  from  bad  to  worse.  The  river  had  risen  so 
that  the  men  were  no  longer  able  to  get  logs  for 
building  purposes  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stream,  and  were  forced  to  make  long  hauls 
through  wet  brush  and  over  rain-soaked  ground, 
until  their  spirits  were  tested  almost  to  the  limit 
of  endurance. 

McCartney  was  as  much  a  student  of  condi- 
tions as  he  was  an  intriguer,  and  was  not  slow  to 
recognize  that,  given  a  little  more  work  under 
conditions  that  were  nearly  impossible,  the  break 
that  he  so  ardently  desired  was  inevitable.  He 
stood  to  one  side,  or  walked  about  with  a  smirk 
on  his  face  that  expressed  only  too  well  his  con- 
fidence in  the  outcome. 

At  one  point,  however,  his  calculations  failed. 
Friday  night  found  the  work  almost  completed. 


276      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

In  spite  of  all  obstacles,  the  end  of  another  day 
would  see  all  the  horses  under  cover  and  housed 
in  buildings  that  would  provide  comfortable 
quarters  during  the  weeks  that  lay  between  the 
closing  of  construction  work  and  the  opening  of 
the  tie-camp» — for  neither  Hurley  nor  King 
would  admit  for  a  moment  that  the  camps  in  the 
hills  would  not  be  running.  They  did  not  know 
how  it  was  to  be  done,  but  they  did  not  allow 
themselves  to  entertain  the  slightest  doubt  that 
the  claim  now  registered  in  the  name  of  McCart- 
ney would  yet  be  worked  without  his  permission 
or  assistance. 

Keith  McBain  was  not  nearly  so  sanguine. 
He  knew — as  no  orue  else  knew,  except  King  and 
Cherry — that  McCartney  still  held  his  high  card 
and  would  play  it  when  the  time  was  ripe.  What 
the  results  would  be  he  could  not  guess — he 
could  see  nothing  but  chaos  and  disintegration 
ahead.  King  clung  to  the  hope — it  was  a  sort  of 
blind  faith  with  him — that  somewhere,  somehow, 
Keith  McBain's  fears  would  prove  to  be  ground- 
less. Cherry  was  cheerful,  even  hopeful,  though 
none  knew  whether  her  high  spirits  were  genuine 
or  feigned.  She  drew  some  comfort,  at  least, 
from  the  knowledge  that,  if  McCartney  had  a 
card  to  play,  so  had  she — and  she  would  play  it 
when  the  moment  was  most  opportune. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      277 

But  to  all  this  McCartney  was  apparently 
blind.  He  had  one  desire,  one  aim  so  single  and 
so  unshakeable  that  he  could  see  nothing  else. 
His  mind  was  bent  upon  winning  the  game  at  all 
costs — or,  losing  it,  to  work  such  havoc  in  the 
place  that  no  one  would  stay.  It  was  all  a  bit 
of  frontier  politics,  with  all  the  ruthlessness  and 
much  of  the  intrigue  and  petty  conspiracy  that 
mark  the  game  of  politics  as  it  was  played,  just 
over  the  hills,  in  the  well-dressed,  highly  organ- 
ized society  that  these  men  had  left  in  the  hope 
of  gaining  a  new  freedom  from  the  restraints  of 
their  old  life. 

Sooner  or  later  the  break  was  bound  to  come 
— and  McCartney  had  timed  it  to  suit  his  own 
convenience.  Saturday  morning  Tom  Rickard 
turned  out  with  the  men  as  usual,  and  drove  the 
team  he  had  been  driving  all  week.  King  had 
left  the  scene  of  operations  and  had  walked 
slowly  down  the  narrow  trail  worn  by  the  logs 
that  had  been  dragged  out  of  the  woods  during 
the  week.  He  had  gone  a  little  more  than  half 
way  towards  the  point  where  the  trail  branched 
off  in  several  directions  at  once  and  lost  itself  in 
the  woods.  Rickard  and  a  companion  were  just 
emerging  from  the  cover  of  the  trees,  bringing 
out  two  bits  of  timber  bound  together  at  one  end 
with  a  heavy  logging  chain.  Suddenly  Rickard's 


273      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

team  stopped  with  a  jerk.  The  logs  had  slipped 
into  an  awkward  position,  wedged  between  two 
stout  poplars  that  held  them  as  in  a  vice. 

King  came  up  to  them  and  looked  for  a  mo- 
ment at  the  muddle  without  speaking.  Had 
Rickard  showed  the  slightest  good  judgment  he 
would  never  have  allowed  himself  to  get  into  the 
tangle.  King  knew  that — but  he  stopped  the 
words  that  were  on  his  lips.  Turning  to  Rick- 
ard's  companion  he  directed  him  to  make  use  of 
his  cant-hook  and  dislodge  the  timbers.  His  re- 
quest was  made  in  a  quiet  tone  and  without  any- 
thing offensive  in  his  manner,  and  he  stepped 
away  from  the  men  and  started  round  to  the 
other  side  of  the  horses  to  watch  the  work. 

As  he  did  so  he  heard  Rickard  muttering  some- 
thing that  was  meant  for  his  companion,  though 
he  did  not  conceal  the  fact  that  he  cared  very 
little  whether  King  heard  it  or  not. 

King  stopped  and  came  back. 

"Just  now,  Rickard,  this  is  a  one  man's  job," 
he  said.  <cYou  get  that  straight." 

Rickard's  mouth  curled  up  into  a  sneer.  He 
seemed  on  the  point  of  making  a  reply,  but  he 
looked  at  King's  face  and  shrugged  his  shoulders 
contemptuously  without  speaking. 

King  then  turned  to  Rickard's  companion  and 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      279 

stood  by  until  the  logs  were  cleared.  Then  he 
gave  Rickard  orders  to  go  ahead.  Letting  loose 
a  string  of  oaths,  Rickard  struck  the  horses  with 
the  knotted  ends  of  the  lines,  and  continued  lash- 
ing them  as  he  drove  them  at  a  mad  pace  down 
the  trail  and  round  the  corner  to  where  the  men 
were  working. 

King  stood  in  the  trail  and  watched  Rickard 
abusing  his  team  until  the  blood  was  hot  in  his 
veins.  He  made  a  quick  start  to  overtake  him — 
and  then  suddenly  checked  himself.  Stepping 
back  a  little  among  the  trees  he  waited. 

In  a  few  minutes  Rickard  returned  for  another 
load.  King  waited  until  he  came  opposite  him  in 
the  trail,  and  then  stepped  out.  Rickard's  com- 
panion had  not  come  back  as  yet  and  he  was 
alone. 

"Whoa!"  King  said  to  the  horses,  and  he 
stepped  before  them  in  the  trail. 

Then  he  faced  Rickard. 

"Tie  up  here  a  minute,"  he  said,  indicating 
with  his  hand  a  tree  conveniently  near,  to  which 
the  team  could  be  made  secure. 

Rickard  looked  at  King  quickly  and  again  gave 
a  shrug  of  contempt. 

"Rickard,"  King  said,  "that  won't  get  you  any- 
wheje.  Tie  up — here!" 


280      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"I  will—like " 

Rickard  never  finished  his  sentence.  King  was 
beside  him  with  one  step  and  had  seized  him  by 
the  shoulder. 

"Rickard !"  he  said,  sharply. 

Rickard  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then 
going  to  the  heads  of  the  horses,  led  his  team  over 
to  the  tree  and  made  them  fast. 

"Go  in  there,"  King  commanded,  and  pointed 
into  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  the  river. 

Rickard  did  not  turn  to  look  this  time,  but 
picked  his  way  through  the  underbrush,  with 
King  close  at  his  heels.  When  they  came  within 
a  yard  or  two  of  the  bank  of  the  river  King  spoke 
again. 

"This  will  do,"  he  said.  "I'm  going  to  talk 
to  you  for  about  one  minute,  and  I  want  you  to 
listen." 

All  the  quietness  had  vanished  both  from 
King's  voice  and  from  his  manner.  He  was 
shaking  with  passion  and  his  face  was  almost 
white.  He  laid  one  hand  on  Rickard's  shoulder 
and  closed  his  fingers  in  a  vice-like  grip. 

"Ten  minutes  ago,  Rickard,"  he  said,  "by  God, 
I'd  have  killed  you.  Just  now,  you  dirty  whelp 
— I'll  give  you  about  thirty  seconds  to  make  up 
your  mind  to  get  out.  Leave  that  team  where  it 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      281 

is  and  get  back  out  of  the  way  till  this  job's  done. 
If  you're  in  town  by  Monday  night  I'll  take  my 
own  way  of  putting  you  out.  A  little  better  than 
two  days — that's  enough  time  to  square  up  and 
hit  the  trail.  Are  you  ready?" 

Rickard  squirmed  under  King's  hand,  but 
King  pulled  him  up  suddenly. 

"Are  you  ready?"  he  repeated. 

Rickard  nodded. 

"Then  move!" 

King  waited  until  he  had  gone  a  few  yards  be- 
fore he  followed  him.  They  had  not  retraced 
more  than  half  the  distance  they  had  come  when 
they  heard  a  great  splash  in  the  river  behind 
them.  They  turned  at  once  and  looked  back. 
A  large  section  of  the  river  bank,  undermined  by 
the  action  of  the  water,  had  fallen  and  had  taken 
away  the  very  ground  on  which  they  had  been 
standing  only  a  moment  before. 

King  paused  in  silent  contemplation  of  how 
petty,  after  all,  are  the  things  that  vex  us  most. 
Only  a  moment  did  he  allow  his  mind  to  wander 
from  the  business  he  had  in  hand ;  then  he  faced 
Rickard  again,  and  without  a  word  the  two  went 
off  together. 

King  took  the  team  back  and  gave  it  into  the 
keeping  of  one  of  the  mea.  He  never  left  Rick- 

3 


282      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

ard's  side,  however,  until  he  had  seen  him  safely 
away  from  the  workers.  Then  he  returned  and 
went  on  with  his  work. 

That  evening  the  task  was  completed  and  King, 
after  taking  supper  at  MacMurray's  and  chatting 
a  moment  with  Anne,  walked  over  to  Hurley's  to 
talk  with  Cherry  a  little  before  he  went  to  his 
shack.  All  day  his  mind  had  reverted  time  and 
time  again  to  the  incident  with  Rickard,  and 
more  especially  to  what  seemed  like  a  miraculous 
escape  from  what  might  have  meant  death  to 
both.  Now  that  the  work  was  over  and  his  mind 
was  free,  the  whole  affair  came  back  upon  him 
with  renewed  freshness.  He  told  it  all  to  Cherry 
and  Mrs.  Hurley,  and  when  he  had  finished, 
Cherry,  who  had  listened  throughout  without 
speaking  a  word,  turned  a  serious  face  to  King 
and  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  i 

"It  looks  almost — as  if  God  himself  were 
helping  us,"  she  said. 

She  did  not  speak  fervently,  nor  with  any  emo- 
tion. Her  voice  was  quiet  and  her  tone  matter- 
of-fact.  And  yet  King  was  struck  by  the  sim- 
plicity of  her  manner.  She  evidently  believed 
implicitly  in  what  she  had  said — and  King  found 
himself  impelled  to  share  somewhat  in  her  faith. 

It  was  the  last  thought  that  lingered   in   bis 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

mind  that  night  before  he  went  to  sleep  to  the 
sound  of  the  rain  falling  upon  the  roof  of  his 
shack. 

Hugh  Hurley  and  Keith  McBain  sat  together 
in  the  land  office  very  late  that  night.  No  one 
in  town  was  in  any  mood  for  going  to  bed,  and 
the  sounds  that  came  from  Cheney's  and  Mac- 
Murray's  bore  ample  evidence  to  the  fact  that  the 
men  were  apparently  preparing  to  make  a  night 
of  it.  Old  Gabe  Smith  dropped  in  when  it  was 
very  late  and  stayed  long  enough  to  observe, 
among  other  things,  that  if  the  rain  didn't  soon 
cease  in  the  hills  the  water  in  the  river  would  be 
over  the  top  of  the  bank. 

After  Gabe  had  gone,  the  two  men  decided  upon 
taking  a  walk  down  to  the  river  to  look  at  the  ris- 
ing water.  What  they  saw  when  they  got  there 
struck  fear  into  their  hearts  at  once.  Since  it  had 
grown  dark  the  stream  had  risen  a  full  foot,  and 
was  now  rushing  with  terrific  force  around  the 
bend,  about  the  outer  angle  of  which  clustered 
the  huts  and  cabins  of  the  little  town.  Already 
the  current  had  swept  away  large  portions  of  the 
high  bank,  in  which  there  was  no  rock  or  stone 
of  any  account  to  offer  any  resistance  to  the  enor- 
mous weight  of  water  that  swept  down  like  a 
vicious  cataract  out  of  the  hills. 


284      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Look  yonder,"  Hurley  said,  suddenly. 

Keith  McBain  turned  to  look  in  the  direction 
indicated.  Further  up  stream  a  little  shack  stood, 
with  one  corner  already  projecting  over  the  edge 
of  the  bank.  In  a  few  hours  at  most  the  ground 
upon  which  it  stood  would  be  swept  away  and 
the  shack  with  it. 

Without  losing  a  moment  they  hurried  back 
to  MacMurray's  and  called  out  the  men  who  had 
not  yet  retired  for  the  night.  In  less  than  five 
minutes,  more  than  a  score  were  at  work,  and 
before  another  half  hour  had  passed,  the  shack 
had  been  moved  back  upon  safe  ground. 

By  the  time  the  excitement  was  over  there  was 
not  a  man  left  in  either  MacMurray's  or 
Cheney's.  Everyone  was  out,  either  to  help  or 
look  on.  Keith  McBain  had  left  and  gone  back 
with  Hurley  to  the  office  when  the  immediate 
danger  was  past.  They  were  not  in  the  crowd 
when  Gabe  Smith  came  running  excitedly  to  the 
men  to  announce  that  the  bank  was  falling  away 
just  above  the  place  where  the  corral  and  equip- 
ment sheds  had  been  built  during  the  week. 

At  once  the  men  hurried  toward  the  corral. 
For  a  few  minutes  there  was  much  excited  and 
aimless  running  about  on  the  part  of  the  men, 
without  any  organization,  and  without  any  plan. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      285 

Soon,  however,  there  emerged  certain  unfailing 
indications  that  a  part  of  the  gang,  at  any  rate, 
were  under  direction.  Gabe  Smith  was  probably 
the  first  to  observe  it,  and  his  suspicions  were 
confirmed  when  he  saw  McCartney's  huge  frame 
moving  among  the  men.  There  was  organiza- 
tion, but  designed  to  frustrate  all  efforts  to  save 
the  buildings,  rather  than  to  assist. 

Gabe  left  the  crowd  of  men,  who  were  already 
wrangling  among  themselves,  and  hurried  to  find 
Keith  McBain.  He  had  his  hand  upon  the  door 
of  the  office  and  was  about  to  open  it,  when  he 
felt  himself  seized  by  the  shoulder  and  hurled 
back  so  violently  that  he  stumbled  and  fell  to  the 
ground. 

He  looked  up  and  saw  McCartney  standing 
over  him. 

"Stay  out  of  the  way,  you  old  crust,"  McCart- 
ney said,  "an*  you  won't  get  hurt." 

In  a  moment  the  office  door  was  opened  and 
Hurley  was  standing  in  the  lighted  doorway,  with 
McBain  behind  him. 

"What's  wrong?"  demanded  Hurley. 

For  reply  McCartney  stepped  into  the  office, 
pushing  Hurley  before  him,  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

"This  ain't  an  old  man's  town — that's  what's 
wrong,"  he  said. 


286      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

Hurley  expressed  his  astonishment. 

"Well,  but — an  old  man  can  live  here  as  well 
as  anywhere  else,  can't  he?"  he  protested. 

"All  depends,"  McCartney  replied,  smiling 
cynically.  "We'll  settle  that  some  other  time. 
Just  now  I  have  business  with  Keith  McBain." 

"It's  time  to  settle,"  he  said,  looking  at  Mc- 
Bain who,  for  a  moment,  seemed  beaten  in  the 
struggle  that  was  raging  within  him. 

Suddenly  he  stood  up  and  looked  at  McCart- 
ney, his  eyes  burning  with  the  fierce  hate  that 
was  in  his  soul.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  seemed 
a  little  uncertain,  as  if  he  were  struggling  to  keep 
back  the  tears  from  his  eyes.  But  almost  imme- 
diately he  mastered  himself  and  spoke  deliber- 
ately enough,  if  not  quietly. 

"What  is  it,  McCartney?"  he  asked. 

"Gabe  Smith  was  here  to  announce  to  you  that 
the  new  buildings  an'  the  outfit  is  all  goin'  down 
stream  before  daybreak  unless  they're  moved," 
McCartney  replied. 

"And  is  nothing  going  to  be  done?"  asked  Mc- 
Bain. 

"That's  just  what  I'm  here  for,"  returned  Mc- 
Cartney. "It'll  be  done  if  you're  ready  to  come 
through." 

"Well— what  will  settle   it?"   Keith   McBain 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      287 

asked  in  a  voice  that  had  almost    a    touch   of 
weariness  in  it. 

"We've  talked  about  all  that  before — there's  no 
change,"  McCartney  replied. 

Hurley  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other  in 
bewilderment. 

"And  if  I  refuse?"  asked  McBain. 

"You're  wastin'  time,"  McCartney  snapped. 

Keith  McBain  raised  his  voice  a  little,  but 
spoke  with  much  the  same  deliberateness  as 
before. 

"For  two  years,  McCartney,  I've  been  in  hell 
expecting  this  time  to  arrive  any  day.  I'm  past 
that  now.  I've  settled  it — and  I'm  going  to  see 
it  to  the  end.  Don't  think  you  can  frighten  me 
—I'm  old,  but— I'll  pay." 

The  words  seemed  to  strike  McCartney  almost 
dumb. 

"You'll  pay?"  he  asked. 

"Yes — go  ahead — tell  all  you  know!" 

"By  God,  then,  you  will  pay,"  McCartney  ex- 
claimed, and  throwing  the  door  open,  went  out. 

Hurley  stepped  over  and,  closing  the  door, 
turned  to  McBain. 

"What  is  this — this  bargain,  Keith?"  he  asked. 

"For  two  years  he  has  kept  a  secret  that  has 
held  me  bound  to  him — because  I  have  been 
afraid  to  die." 


288      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

"Die?"  Hurley  exclaimed. 

"Hugh — I  have  killed  a  man." 

For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence  and  did 
not  look  at  each  other.  Then  Keith  McBain 
moved  wearily  towards  the  door.  Before  he  went 
out  he  turned  and  looked  back  at  Hurley. 

"Hugh,"  he  said,  quietly,  "look  after  the  men 
— I'm  going  to  the  girl." 

Then  he  opened  the  door  slowly  and  went  out. 

McCartney  stood  alone  in  the  darkness  by  the 
river  and  waited  for  Rickard,  whose  form  was 
faintly  visible  a  few  yards  up  the  river.  When 
Rickard  had  joined  him,  McCartney  caught  him 
by  the  arm. 

"Well?"  he  asked. 

"All  smooth,"  Rickard  replied. 

"Nothin*  rough?"  McCartney  prompted. 

"I  said — all  smooth,"  Rickard  returned,  a 
little  impatiently. 

They  walked  together  to  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  men  and  stood  looking  at  them.  McCart- 
ney's group  were  in  the  majority,  and  stood  near 
the  corral.  Some  distance  back  the  others  stood 
about  in  small  groups,  talking  angrily  among 
themselves. 

A  bit  of  the  bank  dropped  away  and  fell  with 
a  dull  splash  into  the  water. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      289 

McCartney  put  a  cigarette  into  his  mouth  and 
applied  a  match  leisurely. 

"I  ain't  much  on  religion,  Rick,"  he  said,  jocu- 
larly, "but  the  Almighty  sure  looks  friendly  to- 
night." 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

KING  awoke  with  a  start.  He  had  been 
sleeping  very  soundly,  and  at  first,  after  he 
had  opened  his  eyes,  he  had  difficulty  in 
bringing  his  senses  to  bear  directly  on  what  had 
disturbed  him.  The  faint  grey  dawn  was  already 
at  the  window.  Somewhere  there  had  been  a 
thumping  and — the  sound  of  a  voice  that,  even 
to  his  sleep-fogged  consciousness,  was  vaguely 
familiar. 

For  a  moment  he  waited,  sitting  up  in  his 
bunk  and  rubbing  the  sleep  from  his  eyes.  Sud- 
denly the  thumping  was  repeated — someone  was 
at  the  door.  Then  he  heard  his  name  called  and 
the  sound  of  the  voice  brought  him  to  his  senses 
at  once.  It  was  the  voice  of  Cherry  McBain. 

In  an  instant  he  was  at  the  door. 

"What's  wrong?"  he  asked  excitedly. 

Cherry's  voice  was  full  of  alarm.  "Get  dressed 
quickly,  King,"  she  replied.  "We  want  you." 

King  hurried  into  his  clothes,  and  going  to  the 
door  again  shot  the  wooden  bar  back  from  its 
socket  and  threw  the  door  open.  A  very  light 

290 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      291 

drizzling  rain  was  still  falling,  and  Cherry  shook 
the  wet  wrap  from  her  head  and  shoulders  as  she 
stepped  through  the  doorway.  In  his  hurry  King 
had  not  taken  time  to  light  the  lamp,  but  even 
in  the  darkness  he  could  see  the  expression  of  fear 
on  her  face.  Without  waiting  to  close  the  door  he 
placed  an  arm  about  her  shoulders  and  drew  her 
towards  him. 

"Oh,  King !"  she  cried,  "it's  come— it's  come !" 

He  did  not  need  to  ask  what  had  come.  He 
knew.  Leading  her  gently  to  a  seat  he  left  her, 
and  sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk,  drew 
on  his  boots  and  laced  them  hurriedly.  Then  he 
got  up  quickly  and  throwing  on  his  coat,  took  his 
hat  and  turned  to  Cherry. 

"All  right — I'm  ready,"  he  announced. 

Cherry  got  up  from  her  seat  and  moved  to- 
wards the  door.  She  had  not  spoken  while  King 
was  completing  his  preparations  to  go  out,  and 
he  knew  that  she  had  been  weeping  silently. 

When  she  got  as  far  as  the  open  doorway  she 
paused  and  turned  to  him. 

"King — King — "  she  began,  but  her  voice 
failed  her. 

King  stepped  close  to  her  and  took  her  arm. 

"Tell  me  about  it  as  wre  go,"  he  said. 

She  moved  towards    him,    and    reaching    up 


292      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

placed  her  hands  on  his  shoulders.  King  looked 
down  at  her  face,  white  and  tense  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

"You  must  fight,  King,"  she  said,  with  an  em- 
phasis that  to  King  seemed  almost  pathetic. 

He  pressed  her  closer  for  reply. 

"And  you  must  win,"  she  added. 

He  smiled  faintly.    "I'm  ready,"  he  said. 

Her  hands  crept  slowly  about  his  neck,  and 
King,  with  a  suddenness  that  swept  her  off  her 
feet,  caught  her  to  him  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon 
her  mouth,  a  kiss  in  which  all  the  pent-up  pas- 
sion of  weeks  found  expression  at  last. 

When  he  released  her  he  stood  with  his  arms 
about  her  for  a  brief  moment,  trembling  before 
her. 

"I  don't  deserve  it,"  he  said,  his  voice 
trembling  with  emotion.  "I  guess  I'll  never  de- 
serve that — but  I  wanted  to  win  first — to  win  for 
you." 

She  leaned  a  little  closer  to  him  and  then  drew 
herself  up  and  clung  tightly  with  her  arms  about 
his  neck. 

"King,"  she  said,  breathlessly,  "I  love  you — I 
love  you !" 

Again  he  put  his  lips  to  hers  quickly,  passion- 
ately— and  then  put  her  back  from  him. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      293 

"We  must  get  along  down  now,"  he  said. 

Cherry  drew  her  wrap  around  her  and  they 
went  out  together. 

A  few  minutes'  walking  brought  them  within 
sight  of  the  town,  apparently  peaceful  in  the  cold 
grey  glimmer  of  light  just  breaking  in  the  east. 
So  quiet  was  it  that  King  began  to  wonder  if  the 
disturbances  of  which  Cherry  had  been  telling 
him  as  they  came  along  had  not  been  settled. 
Then  suddenly  there  arose  a  shout  from  the 
further  side  of  the  town,  near  the  river,  and  King 
quickened  his  pace  almost  to  a  run,  giving  Cherry 
all  she  could  do  to  keep  up.  At  last  his  eagerness 
mastered  him,  and  leaving  Cherry  with  a  last 
warning  to  go  back  to  Hurley's  cottage  and  not 
to  stir  until  he  should  come  for  her,  he  left  her 
and  went  off  at  a  run  in  the  direction  of  the 
shouting. 

What  King  saw  when  he  reached  the  point  in 
the  street  where  it  turned  and  ran  along  the  bank 
of  the  river  made  him  stand  a  moment  aghast. 
Back  against  the  trees  the  buildings  stood, 
huddling  together  closely  in  the  cold  light  of  the 
early  morning.  The  water  in  the  river  was  al- 
most level  with  the  ground  on  which  he  was 
standing,  and  large  sections  of  the  bank  had  been 
swept  away  during  the  night,  until  the  corral  in 


294      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

which  the  horses  were  placed  before  King  left 
town  the  night  before,  was  now  standing  on  the 
very  brink  of  the  flood. 

This  was  in  itself  enough  to  strike  fear  into 
King's  heart,  but  the  movements  of  the  men  were 
what  concerned  him  most.  Half-drunken  still 
from  their  night's  debauch  they  seemed  to  be 
rolling  about  in  a  kind  of  ridiculous  orgy, 
stumbling  and  falling  and  scrambling  to  their 
feet  again,  shouting  and  cursing  and  grapplmg 
each  other  in  frenzied  disorder. 

A  glance  was  enough  for  King  to  realize  fully 
what  was  wrong.  He  could  not  see  McCartney 
anywhere  among  the  men,  but  Cherry  had  told 
him  enough — if  telling  had  been  at  all  necessary. 
Back  a  little  from  the  struggling  mass  stood  six 
or  eight  men,  looking  on  quietly  and  talking 
among  themselves.  King  recognized  them  as 
some  of  his  own  men,  upon  whom  he  thought  he 
could  rely  for  support.  In  a  moment  he  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  group. 

"What  are  you  standing  here  for?"  he  asked. 
"Come  on — get  into  it!" 

In  a  flash  they  were  into  the  struggle,  King 
leading  them  as  they  bored  their  way  through  in 
an  effort  to  reach  the  corral.  King's  plan  was 
clear  in  his  own  mind.  Once  with  his  back  to 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      295 

the  walls  of  the  corral,  he  could  call  his  men  one 
by  one  about  him,  and  having  displaced  their 
opponents,  drive  them  off  by  united  effort,  break 
up  their  organization,  and  beat  them  into  sub- 
mission. 

The  plan,  easily  enough  conceived,  was  not  so 
easily  carried  into  effect.  King's  appearance,  it 
is  true,  had  raised  the  spirits  of  the  men  who 
were  fighting  together  to  settle  the  scores  they 
had  accumulated  during  weeks  of  growing  hatred 
for  McCartney  and  his  crowd.  But  as  their 
spirits  rose,  the  determination  of  their  opponents 
became  more  grim  as  they  saw  themselves  faced 
with  possible  defeat  where  they  had  never 
dreamed  of  anything  but  an  easy  victory.  The 
fight  became  more  and  more  furious  every  min- 
ute. Whereas  before  King's  coming  they  had 
fought  without  much  bad  temper  and  with  little 
evidence  of  losing  control  of  themselves,  now 
they  struck  out  madly  and  grappled  with  the 
fierceness  of  men  in  a  battle  where  life  and  death 
depended  upon  the  outcome.  They  had  fought 
only  with  their  fists  before.  Now  sticks  and 
clubs  began  to  make  their  appearance  as  if  by 
magic,  and  in  many  cases  the  fight  was  for  the 
possession  of  weapons. 

Once  King  saw  the  flash  of  a  knife   between 


296      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

two  men  who  were  struggling  near  him.  Turn- 
ing quickly  he  struck  the  fellow  who  held  it, 
sending  him  to  the  ground,  where  he  sprawled 
clumsily  in  an  effort  to  escape  being  trampled 
under  the  feet  of  the  fighte.rs.  The  knife  had 
fallen  to  the  ground,  and  King,  placing  his  foot 
on  it  for  a  moment,  waited  while  he  beat  back  a 
struggling  pair  who  were  close  to  him.  Then 
stooping  quickly  he  picked  up  the  knife  and  threw 
it  into  the  river.  No  sooner  had  he  thrown  it 
away  than  the  owner  pushed  his  way  towards 
King  and  accosted  him  for  having  attacked  him. 
He  was  one  of  King's  men. 

King  pushed  him  back  angrily. 

"Let  them  start  that,"  he  cried  in  a  voice  that 
rose  above  the  din.  "Get  in  there !" 

He  pointed  to  where  a  group  of  his  men  were 
now  massed  against  their  opponents  and  were 
driving  them  back  slowly  from  the  corral. 

Then  his  eyes  shifted  suddenly  in  a  new  direc- 
tion. Pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd  to- 
wards King,  was  McCartney,  his  huge  shoulders 
towering  above  the  other  men,  his  dark  face  seri- 
ous and  totally  divested  of  its  usual  cynical 
smile.  Not  far  behind  him,  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd,  stood  Old  Silent. 

King  wasted  no  time  on  the  men  about  him.    If 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN       297 

McCartney's  anxiety  to  reach  him  were  greater 
than  his  own,  there  was  no  indication  of  the  fact 
in  the  eagerness  with  which  King  pressed  towards 
him,  pushing  first  one  and  then  another  out  of 
the  way  as  he  went  forward. 

When  the  two  men  faced  each  other  at  last 
they  paused  a  moment,  and  their  eyes  met  in  a 
long  look  in  which  there  was  something  more 
than  mere  hatred.  In  fact,  an  %  observer  might 
have  refused  to  believe  that  the  look  was  one  of 
hate.  There  was  grim  resolve  and  unwavering 
determination  to  settle  an  account  of  long  stand- 
ing. But,  for  a  moment  at  least,  there  arose  in 
King's  heart  a  feeling  of  something  like  admira- 
tion for  the  embodiment  of  sheer  brute  strength 
that  stood  before  him.  King  did  not  pause  long 
enough  to  ask  what  lingered  in  the  look  Mc- 
Cartney gave  him.  He  saw  only  that  the  tense 
seriousness  that  had  darkened  the  face  of  Mc- 
Cartney was  gradually  giving  place  to  the  old 
sneer  that  had  always  played  about  one  corner  of 
his  mouth — and  the  sight  stung  him  to  madness. 
He  thought  of  Cherry  McBain — he  thought  of 
the  man  whose  life  for  two  years  had  been  one 
long  curse  to  him — he  thought  of  the  woman  who 
had  died  of  a  broken  heart — and  he  stepped 
quickly  and  struck  out  at  the  sneering  face  before 
him. 


298      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

The  dawn  in  the  east  had  spread  upward  from 
the  horizon  and  filled  the  sky,  still  clouded,  with 
a  thin  grey  light.  There  was  light  enough,  how- 
ever, to  make  every  movement  easily  discernible, 
and  King  watched  his  opponent  from  the  be- 
ginning with  an  alertness  that  rendered  him  proof 
against  any  foul  play.  He  was  not  going  to  be 
taken  unawares,  at  any  rate.  If  he  were  beaten 
it  would  be  because  he  had  matched  himself 
against  a  better  man. 

Gradually  the  other  men  fell  away  from  them 
and  left  the  ground  clear.  McCartney's  men  had 
been  driven  back  and  were  beaten.  But  friend 
and  foe  alike  came  round  to  watch  what  they 
rightly  guessed  was  to  be  the  last  scene  in  a  play 
that  had  been  running  for  many  weeks.  Keith 
McBain  himself  stood  off  to  one  side,  his  face 
ashen  white,  his  eyes  set  immovably  upon  the 
men  who  were  settling  once  and  for  all,  he  hoped, 
not  only  their  own  accounts,  but  his  as  well.  Old 
Gabe  Smith  stood  directly  behind  King,  calling 
out  words  of  encouragement  in  his  little  piping 
voice,  and  totally  oblivious  to  the  existence  of 
anyone  else  in  the  world. 

For  fully  five  minutes  the  two  men  walked 
cautiously  about  each  other,  striking  out  quickly 
but  lightly,  and  stepping  back  immediately  to  re- 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      299 

cover  themselves  after  each  advance.  Though 
the  sneer  never  left  McCartney's  face,  there  was 
behind  it  a  deep  seriousness  that  expressed  well 
the  fact  that  he  was  fully  conscious  of  the  magni- 
tude of  the  task  before  him.  King's  face  was 
tense,  set,  terribly  earnest. 

Only  once  was  there  any  interference  from  the 
bystanders.  Mike  Cheney,  who  had  been  an  in- 
terested spectator  during  the  whole  struggle, 
pushed  his  way  to  the  inner  part  of  the  circle  of 
men  and  voiced  a  feeble  protest.  The  men  near 
him  laughed  and  jostled  him  out  of  the  way.  He 
was  content  to  remain  where  he  was,  though  he 
no  doubt  felt  there  was  something  incongruous 
in  the  fact  that  when  he  looked  round  he  was 
standing  next  to  Hugh  Hurley. 

After  some  time  had  passed  in  which  the  men 
had  remained  wholly  on  the  defensive,  McCart- 
ney began  to  advance  persistently  against  King, 
who  stepped  back  out  of  reach  whenever  he  found 
McCartney  pressing  him  too  closely.  King's 
wary  tactics  were  testing  the  patience  of  his  op- 
ponent. With  an  agility  that  was  surprising  in 
a  man  of  his  size,  he  stepped  about  the  enclosure, 
keeping  just  out  of  reach  of  McCartney,  and 
starting  forward,  snapping  out  his  left  hand 
when  an  opportunity  presented  itself.  His  blows 


300      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

were  not  heavy,  but  he  was  reaching  McCart- 
ney's face  and  body  almost  every  time  he  struck. 
McCartney  swung  and  lunged  heavily  every  time 
he  struck  at  King,  but  his  blows  were  without 
control. 

Growing  impatient  at  last  with  following  King 
from  place  to  place,  he  closed  quickly  and  seized 
King  about  the  body.  This  time,  however,  he 
had  misjudged  his  man.  As  he  came  forward 
King  stepped  in  and  met  him  with  a  blow  from 
the  shoulder  that  struck  McCartney  on  the  chin. 
His  full  weight  was  behind  the  blow  and  Mc- 
Cartney's head  went  back  from  the  force  of  it. 
Then  his  arms  went  round  King  and  he  hung  on 
dazedly  in  an  attempt  to  gain  a  little  more  time 
for  recovery.  But  King  was  determined  to  make 
his  recovery  as  difficult  as  possible.  With  Mc- 
Cartney's full  weight  bearing  him  down,  he  sent 
half  a  dozen  quick,  short  blows  to  the  body  that 
made  his  opponent  gasp  for  breath. 

But  McCartney  kept  his-  hold  and  tightened  it, 
so  that  King  found  himself  in  a  grip  that  made 
striking  impossible.  It  was  just  this  situation 
that  King  had  tried  to  avoid.  He  knew  McCart- 
ney's strength  was  probably  more  than  a  match 
for  his  own,  and  he  had  hoped  that  he  might  be 
able  to  keep  him  at  a  distance.  As  he  felt  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      301 

powerful  arms  closing  more  and  more  tightly 
about  him  he  struggled  to  break  the  hold.  After 
a  few  moments,  however,  he  knew  that  his  efforts 
were  in  vain.  McCartney  had  him  in  a  grip  that 
reduced  his  effectiveness  and  made  any  attempt 
to  break  it  simply  a  waste  of  reserve  strength. 
He  locked  his  arms  about  McCartney's  shoulders 
and  threw  his  whole  weight  upon  him.  His 
change  of  tactics  was  so  sudden  that  McCartney 
staggered  for  a  moment  under  his  weight,  and  in 
that  moment  King's  foot  shot  out  suddenly  and 
the  two  men  went  to  the  ground  together,  locked 
in  each  other's  arms.  Once,  twice,  three  times, 
they  rolled  over,  each  attempting  to  gain  the  ad- 
vantage of  position  without  success.  Then  sud- 
denly they  broke  apart  and  scrambled  to  their 
feet  again,  crouching  at  opposite  sides  of  the 
circle. 

For  some  seconds  the  men  faced  each  other 
without  attacking,  both  apparently  taking  ad- 
vantage of  even  a  brief  breathing  spell.  Those 
who  were  anxious  for  McCartney's  defeat  began 
to  express  their  impatience  at  Bang's  failure  to 
assume  the  aggressive.  McCartney  was  plainly 
weakening  under  the  punishment  that  King  was 
inflicting.  The  fact  that  his  aggressive  tactics 
had  not  already  brought  the  fight  to  an  end  had 


302      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

taken  the  heart  out  of  McCartney.  The  face  that 
during  the  earlier  stages  of  the  struggle  had  borne 
a  sneer  was  now  painfully  serious. 

Even  Hugh  Hurley  caught  some  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  crowd  as  he  saw  that  a  well-directed 
aggressive  on  Bang's  part  would  bring  an  end  to 
the  fight  in  a  few  minutes.  Keith  McBain's  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  King's  face.  Once  or  twice  dur- 
ing the  short  lull  in  the  struggle  they  exchanged 
glances.  Keith  McBain's  heart  sank  within  him, 
and  he  moved  round  to  get  closer  to  King.  There 
was  a  look  in  King's  eyes  that  he  could  not  un- 
derstand. When  he  found  a  place  directly  behind 
him  he  stepped  in  a  little  and  put  one  hand  on 
King's  shoulder. 

"Just  a  bit  more,  boy,"  he  said,  encouragingly. 
"He's  nearly  done." 

King  seemed  on  the  point  of  turning  his  head 
to  reply,  but  just  then  McCartney  started  to- 
wards him.  This  time  King  took  a  half  step  to- 
wards him  and  met  the  rush  without  attempting 
to  step  aside.  Both  men  struck  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, and  both  blows  went  home.  McCartney's 
rush  was  checked,  but  the  full  force  of  his  rush 
was  behind  the  blow  that  caught  King  on  the 
point  of  the  chin.  For  a  moment  King  was  al- 
most overcome  by  a  sickening  dizziness  that  set 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAI^       303 

the  world  spinning  about  him.  His  mind  went 
suddenly  back  to  the  night  in  McBain's  camp 
when  he  had  been  hit  on  the  head,  and  there 
started  within  him  a  terrible  fear  that  the  dark- 
ness that  ha-d  overcome  him  then  was  creeping 
upon  him  now  and  blotting  out  his  senses.  For 
fully  a  minute — it  seemed  an  hour — he  fought  to 
keep  his  eyes  open  and  his  attention  centred  on 
McCartney.  He  threw  his  weight  against  him 
blindly  and  gripped  him  in  sheer  desperation. 
Gradually  his  legs  steadied  under  him  and  his 
sight  cleared.  Still  he  clung  to  his  man. 

Had  McCartney  had  enough  strength  in  re- 
serve to  deliver  one  more  blow  with  any  weight 
behind  it,  he  could  have  finished  the  fight  in 
another  second.  He  knew  as  much  himself,  and 
he  paused  just  a  moment  to  muster  what  little 
strength  he  had  left.  Then  he  broke  away  sud- 
denly and  sent  his  right  hand  over  as  he  stepped 
away.  King's  head  went  back  and  his  arms  went 
out  before  him  helplessly. 

His  men  shouted  to  him  in  that  one  sickening 
moment  when  the  sense  of  utter  defeat  was  forc- 
ing itself  upon  him.  Hurley  and  McBain  called 
his  name  frantically,  but  he  seemed  not  to  hear 
them.  He  sank  to  the  ground  on  one  knee,  hold- 
ing himself  as  erect  as  possible  in  a  last  effort  to 


304      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

meet  the  rush  that  he  Enew  was  bound  to  come. 

McCartney's  men  went  wild  with  excitement. 
They  called  on  him  to  bore  in  and  finish  it. 
Those  behind  stepped  tip  and  pushed  him  for- 
ward. When  he  didn't  move  they  cursed  him  for 
a  fool.  But  he  stood  swaying  unsteadily,  wait- 
ing, apparently,  for  King  to  fall  to  the  ground. 

Behind  King  there  was  a  sudden  commotion 
in  the  crowd,  Gabe  Smith's  thin  voice  was  giv- 
ing commands  to  the  men  to  make  way  for  him. 
He  pushed  his  way  to  the  front,  leading  behind 
him  Cherry  McBain. 

"Fight — you — fight  fM  he  cried  at  the  top  of  his 
voice. 

King  glanced  quickly  about  at  the  sound  of 
Gabe's  voice  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  Cherry's  face. 
Her  look  was  one  of  pathos  and  appeal — but  she 
was  smiling. 

At  once  a  change  passed  over  King's  counten- 
ance. Getting  up  he  brushed  his  hand  impa- 
tiently across  his  face  and  stepped  towards  Mc- 
Cartney. As  he  did  so  McCartney  came  forward 
and  the  two  men  met  at  the  centre  of  the  en- 
closure. 

From  that  moment  neither  man  gave  an  inch 
of  ground.  Fighting  furiously  at  close  quarters 
they  seemed  both  to  have  gained  sudden  strength 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      305 

and  renewed  powers  e>f  endurance.  There  was 
little  attempt  at  defense,  each  man  trying  to  in- 
flict as  much  punishment  as  possible  upon  his 
opponent,  and  caring  little  how  much  he  received 
himself. 

Fighting  as  they  were,  they  could  not  hope  to 
last  much  longer.  The  end  came  very  suddenly. 
Stepping  back  quickly,  King  crouched  a  moment 
and  waited  for  McCartney  to  advance.  He  had 
not  a  second  to  wait.  When  he  saw  him  start  he 
leaned  far  back  and  swung  his  right  hand  from  his 
hip  with  all  the  strength  he  could  command.  The 
blow  went  straight  and  true,  landing  squarely  on 
the  side  of  McCartney's  jaw,  and  the  big  foreman 
went  down  in  a  heap  to  the  ground. 

For  a  moment  King  stood  above  him — but  the 
struggle  was  over.    Then  the  sickening  sensation 
returned  suddenly.    He  turned  to  Cherry,  who, 
was  now  at  his  side, 

"Take — me — away,"  he  said,  giving  her  his 
hand. 

The  next  moment  the  arms  of  Hugh  Hurley 
and  Keith  McBain  were  about  him,  and  he 
staggered  out  of  the  crowd  with  Cherry  and  old 
Gabe  leading  the  way  before  him. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  gone  some  distance 
that  they  noticed  King  beginning  to  limp  badly. 


306      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

At  every  step  he  took  his  face  winced  with  pain. 
Finally  he  asked  them  to  let  him  stand  for  a 
minute. 

"It's  my  foot,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  Hurley's 
question.  "My  ankle — something  happened 
when  we  fell — just  wait  a  little — it'll  be  all  right 
in  a  minute." 

After  a  moment's  pause  they  started  off  again, 
but  King  found  walking  impossible.  Keith  Mc- 
Bain  called  a  couple  of  men  and  they  carried  him 
to  Hurley's  cottage,  where  they  laid  him  on  a 
couch  and  left  him  in  the  care  of  Cherry  and  Mrs. 
Hurley. 

McBain  and  Hurley  went  off  at  once  to  the 
scene  of  the  early  morning  struggle.  Gabe 
lingered  a  little  while  with  King,  busying  him- 
self with  such  odd  jobs  as  Cherry  and  Mrs.  Hur- 
ley found  for  him. 

In  a  short  time  King  had  recovered  sufficiently 
from  the  first  ill-effects  of  his  battle  with  Mc- 
Cartney to  give  some  thought  to  what  was  going 
on  outside. 

He  called  Gabe  to  him. 

"Have  they  gone  back — McBain  and  Hurley?" 
he  asked. 

Gabe  replied  in  the  affirmative.  "An'  they'll 
handle  it,  too — don't  you  worry !"  he  added. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      307 

King  thought  seriously  for  a  moment. 

"Gabe,"  he  said. 

Gabe  took  the  hand  that  King  extended  to  him 
and  waited. 

"Get  Anne — and  bring  her  here,"  he  said. 

Gabe  went  out  at  once  and  King  looked  at 
Cherry,  who  was  standing  above  him,  her  hand 
resting  lightly  upon  his  head. 

"I  want  to  tell  Anne,"  he  said  quietly.  "I 
want  her  to  know  I  didn't  want  to  do  this.  I 
want  her  to  understand — it  had  to  come." 

'Then  she  told  you,  too?"  Cherry  asked. 

King  nodded  in  reply.  Then  he  reached  up 
and  took  her  hand. 

"Come  down  here  beside  me,"  he  said,  and  his 
face  was  very  serious. 

Cherry  knelt  on  the  floor  beside  the  couch. 

"Cherry,"  he  whispered,  drawing  her  towards 
him,  "I  don't  deserve  it — but  I  want  to  kiss  you." 

She  leaned  forward  and  King's  arms  went 
round  her  as  their  lips  met. 

Keith  McBain  and  his  men  went  to  work  as  if 
nothing  had  occurred  for  days  to  disturb  the 
quiet,  work-a-day  life  they  had  been  living  for 
months.  Only  one  building  was  in  imminent 


308      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

danger  of  being  swept  away  by  the  flood,  and  in 
less  than  ten  minutes  after  the  close  of  the  fight 
the  men  were  busily  engaged  removing  the  camp 
equipment  preparatory  to  taking  the  logs  down 
and  shifting  the  buildings  back  from  the  water's 
edge. 

Gabe  came  upon  the  old  contractor  giving 
orders  and  directing  the  work  in  his  customary 
way. 

"Where  is  she?"  asked  Gabe,  excitedly,  as  he 
came  up  with  McBain. 

"She— who?" 

"Anne — she's  gone!"  Gabe  replied. 

McBain  left  the  men  and  accompanied  Gabe 
back  to  MacMurray's.  They  found  McCartney 
lying  on  a  bench  where  his  men  had  placed  him. 
Rickard  was  standing  beside  him  talking  with 
MacMurray. 

"Where's  the  girl — Anne?"  McBain  asked 
MacMurray. 

He  replied  by  looking  at  McCartney  and  then 
at  Rickard.  McCartney  turned  and  looked  at 
McBain  and  then  allowed  his  eyes  to  rest  on 
Rickard. 

"Rick,"  he  said,  "get  her  and  bring  her  here. 
You  can  tell  her  I  want  her." 

Rickard  was  gone  less  than  ten  minutes  when 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      309 

he  returned,  preceded  by  Anne,  who  came 
quickly  through  the  door  and  stopped  suddenly 
before  what  she  saw. 

She  looked  at  the  men  standing  about  and 
then  paused  before  Keith  McBain.  She  did  not 
ask  the  question,  but  McBain  knew  what  was  in 
her  mind.  His  reply  was  brief. 

"Howden,"  he  said,  and  Anne's  slow  smile 
proved  that  she  understood. 

Then  she  went  over  to  McCartney's  side  and 
looked  down  at  him. 

"You  always  were  a  damn  fool,"  she  said  very 
deliberately,  and  very  slowly — and  her  voice  had 
a  strangely  deep  note  of  pity  in  it. 

Scattering  the  men  before  her,  she  hurried  to 
the  kitchen  and  came  back  with  water  in  a  basin 
and  set  about  bathing  McCartney's  swollen  face 
and  washing  the  blood  from  his  lips  and  chin. 
She  was  very  silent  and  very  gentle,  and  Mc- 
Cartney spoke  no  word  to  her  as  siie  worked  over 
him. 

The  men  looked  on  only  for  a  moment  and 
then  went  out  one  by  one,  until  the  two  were  left 
along* 

Later  that  morning  Cherry  went  to  Mac- 
Murray's  to  see  if  she  could  not  prevail  upon 
Anne  to  come  over  to  Hurley's  cottage  to  see 


310      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

King.  She  found  Anne  seated  beside  McCart- 
ney, who  had  fallen  asleep.  Anne  was  bending 
low  over  him,  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 
iWhen  she  saw  Cherry  she  got  up  quickly  and 
brushed  the  tears  impatiently  from  her  eyes. 
Then  she  came  to  Cherry,  where  she  was  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway. 

"Anne — Anne,"  Cherry  said,  her  voice  soft 
with  pity. 

But  Anne  was  mistress  of  herself  now. 

"How  is  King?"  she  asked,  in  a  most  matter- 
of-fact  tone  that  expressed  quite  clearly  how 
little  she  wanted  anyone's  sympathy. 

"He's  all  right  now,"  Cherry  replied.  "He  has 
a  bad  ankle  and  can't  walk,  but  it  will  be  all  right 
in  a  day  or  two.  He  asked  me  to  bring  you  over." 

"What  does  he  want?" 

Cherry  found  it  hard  to  reply  to  Anne's  ques- 
tion— it  was  asked  with  such  cold  directness. 

"I  think  he  wants  to  explain  to  you  what  he 
feels  about ." 

Anne  stopped  her  abruptly.  "Tell  him  it's  all 
right.  I  ain't  goin'  to  worry  over  a  thing  that 
I've  been  expectin'  for  weeks.  Tell  him  it's  all 
right." 

Cherry  turned  to  go. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  Anne  called,  and  vanished 
into  the  house. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      311 

She  Was  gone  a  long  time  and  Cherry  waited 
patiently  for  her  return.  When  she  appeared 
again  she  held  a  folded  paper  in  her  hand  and 
her  hair  was  in  disorder  about  her  face. 

"I  had  a  time  gettin'  it,"  she  said,  coming  to- 
wards Cherry  and  holding  the  paper  before  her. 
"I  had  to  wake  him  up  to  tell  me  where  it  was. 
But  he  told  me.  One  thing  about  Bill — he  knows 
when  he's  beat — an'  that's  sayin'  something  for  a 
man  that  was  never  beat  before — ain't  it?" 

She  smiled  comically,  and  Cherry  could  not 
help  smiling  at  her  in  reply. 

"Anyhow,  here  it  is,"  she  said,  giving  the  paper 
to  Cherry.  "I  thought  of  takin'  it  over  myself — 
I  like  that  boy — but  you'd  better  give  it  to  him." 

Cherry  knew  little  or  nothing  about  official 
documents,  but  she  could  not  help  guessing  the 
meaning  of  the  paper  she  held  in  her  hand.  She 
opened  it  and  glanced  quickly  over  the  written 
record  of  a  timber  claim  in  the  hills,  interjected 
between  the  lines  of  legally  phrased  printed 
matter. 

"TaEe  it  to  him,"  Anne  continued  after  a 
pause.  "He'll  know  what  to  do  with  it.  If  he 
don't — ask  old  man  Hurley." 

"But  Anne "  Cherry  protested,  only  to 

be  interrupted  again. 

"Don't  worry — I  ain't  stealin'  it.    Ain't  I  his 


312      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

wife?"  she  asked  with  a  laugh.  "Anyhow  there's 
something  else.  I  had  a  claim  once  out  west — 
a  good  claim,  too — never  mind!" 

She  broke  off  abruptly  and  gave  Cherry  a  little 
push. 

"Give  it  to  him  an'  tell  him  'God  bless  him'  for 
me»"  she  added. 

Gberry  walked  off  slowly  and  Anne  stood  in 
the;  doorway  watching  her.  When  she  had  gone 
a  few  yards  she  stopped  and  came  back. 

"But  fathei "  she  began  and  paused  awk- 
wardly. 

Anne's  face  took  on  a  strange  look.  *  She 
stepped  down  from  the  doorway  and  confronted 
Cherry. 

"Say — did  Bill  spring  that  man-killin'  joke  on 
Old  Silent?"  she  asked. 

Cherry  nodded. 

"Well,  I'm  blistered !"  she  exclaimed.  "Leave 
it  with  me — I'll  make  him  straighten  that  out 
himself." 

And  Cherry  went  off  with  a  light  heart. 

That  night  Keith  McBain  came  into  the  room 
where  Cherry  and  King  were  sitting.  King  was 
preparing  to  leave  for  his  shack — in  spite  of  the 
protests  of  Mrs.  Hurley — confident  that  he  was 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      313 

able  to  get  about  and  look  after  himself  quite  well 
with  the  help  of  old  Gabe,  who  was  going  to  stay 
with  him.  McBain  came  upon  the  two  somewhat 
abruptly.  When  they  looked  up  he  was  standing 
within  a  few  feet  of  them,  his  old  face  beaming 
with  a  light  that  had  not  shone  there  for  months. 

"Cherry,  girl,"  he  said,  coming  towards  her 
and  holding  his  arms  out  to  her,  "it's  all  right !" 

"What,  father?"  she  asked,  jumping  up  and 
going  to  him. 

"McCartney  lied — he  has  told  me  everything. 
The  man  is  alive — Anne  nursed  him  back — it's 
all  right!" 

Cherry  threw  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck 
and  kissed  him. 

"Father,  father,  father!"  she  cried;  and  sud- 
denly her  voice  broke.  "If  we  had  only  known." 

"If  we  had  only  known !"  repeated  Old  Silent ; 
and  his  mind  went  back  to  a  pile  of  stones  and  a 
little  wooden  cross  that  stood  miles  back  beside 
the  right-of-way. 

u 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

KING  dropped  his  scythe  upon  the  windrow 
of  freshly-cut  hay  and  stood  a  moment 
while  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow. 
It  was  July,  and  the  day  had  been  very  hot,  and 
King  had  cut  a  very  wide  swath  in  the  tall,  wild 
grass.  A  little  way  off  on  the  higher  ground  of 
the  ridge  stood  his  first  crop  of  gro\\mg  wheat, 
the  soft  green  shoots  stretching  upward  from  the 
new  soil  and  bending  before  a  gently  moving 
breeze.  Between  the  meadow  and  the  wheat  lay 
a  stretch  of  newly-broken  land  where,  only  the 
day  before,  King  had  driven  the  plough  through 
long  furrows  of  rich  mould.  Even  yet  the  mellow 
odor  of  freshly-turned  soil  came  to  him,  mingled 
with  the  cool  fragrance  of  the  meadow. 

King  looked  about  him  until  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Sal,  where  she  was  working  half-buried  in  a  hole 
she  had  dug  in  a  futile  attempt  to  follow  a  gopher 
to  its  place  of  hiding  under  the  ground.  He  gave 
a  sharp  whistle  and  crouched  low,  holding  out  his 
hands  as  the  dog  came  bounding  towards  him. 

314 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      315 

Taking  her  in  his  arms  he  lifted  her  from  the 
ground  and  then  rolled  her  over  playfully  on  the 
hay. 

Getting  up,  he  strolled  off  along  the  edge  of  the 
standing  grass,  Sal  running  before  him  in  a  zig- 
zag search  for  gophers.  When  they  came  to  the 
edge  of  a  small  slough  the  dog  pounced  at  once 
into  the  water,  almost  on  top  of  a  wild  duck 
and  her  brood  of  half-grown  ducklings.  They 
started  up  suddenly  with  much  splashing  of  water 
and  beating  of  wings  and  loud  quacking. 

"Back  you — lie  down!"  King  cried,  and  Sal 
retreated  from  the  edge  of  the  slough  and  came 
towards  King  wriggling  and  twisting  her  shaggy 
body  in  an  effort  to  appear  apologetic. 

It  was  a  great  day,  and  now  that  the  afternoon 
was  wearing  on,  King  was  strongly  tempted  to  be 
lazy.  He  had  worked  hard  during  the  past  weeks. 
The  land  he  had  prepared  for  crop  had  been  sown 
broadcast  by  hand.  He  had  cut  his  hay  with  a 
scythe  and  would  have  to  rake  it  by  hand — 
though  Cherry  was  longing  for  the  hay  to  cure  so 
that  she  could  get  into  the  field  with  King  and 
rake  the  long  windrows  into  coils. 

Oh,  yes — Cherry  was  King's  helper  now.  One 
day  in  spring,  just  before  the  men  had  gone  out 
to  begin  work  on  the  railway  construction  again, 


316      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

there  had  been  a  final  gathering  from  the  whole 
valley.  Cherry  and  King  might  have  left  it  until 
midsummer.  King  wanted  to  get  his  land  into 
shape  and  his  first  crop  in — and  Cherry  wanted 
to  see  her  father  started  once  again  on  his  right- 
of-way  contracts.  At  least,  so  they  said.  The 
fact  of  the  matter  was  that  Old  Silent  wanted  to 
keep  his  daughter  by  him  for  just  a  few  weeks 
more,  and  King  and  Cherry  had  both  agreed,  to 
humor  him  a  little  until  the  work  was  well  under 
way. 

But  the  men  had  settled  it.  McCartney  and 
his  crowd — or  such  of  them  as  felt  themselves  un- 
able to  face  Keith  McBain  again — had  with- 
drawn before  the  snow  was  on  the  ground.  The 
season  in  the  camps  had  been  highly  successful  in 
every  sense,  a  fact,  by  the  way,  that  reflected 
much  credit  upon  King  Howden,  who  had 
handled  the  men  and  had  taken  the  responsi- 
bility of  conducting  the  camp  during  the  winter. 
The  work  on  the  grade  was  waiting,  and  when  the 
men  went  out  to  the  right-of-way  and  the  young 
settlers  went  to  their  land,  The  Town  would  be 
no  more.  There  had  not  been  a  wedding  in  the 
place  since  the  first  hut  had  been  built.  The  men 
— through  a  committee  duly  chosen  and  given 
full  powers — made  known  to  Keith  McBain  their 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      317 

feelings  on  the  matter.  For  once  the  old  con- 
tractor allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  against 
his  will.  He  made  only  one  condition,  namely, 
that  he  himself  should  announce  to  King  and 
Cherry  the  decision  that  The  Town  had  come  to. 
The  men  agreed,  and  withdrew  from  the  pres- 
ence of  Old  Silent  to  begin  preparations  for  the 
great  day. 

And  it  had  been  a  day  for  all  to  remember. 
King  thought  of  it  now  as  he  walked  back  to 
where  his  scythe  lay,  and  picking  it  up  stood  it 
on  its  haft  while  he  applied  his  whet-stone  to  the 
blade,  and  sent  the  rhythmic  tune  of  the  hay- 
maker ringing  across  the  meadow. 

The  Town  was  gone.  There  were  a  few  old 
unfilled  wells  and  the  tumbled  foundations  of 
cabins,  and  a  winding  street  grown  over  with 
grass  and  weeds — but  that  was  all.  Farther  up 
the  valley  its  ambitious  successor  was  already 
thriving  beside  the  right-of-way,  waiting  for  the 
coming  of  the  steel.  Soon  it  would  be  linked  up 
with  the  outside  world,  it  would  be  given  a  name 
and  placed  on  the  map  by  someone  who  probably 
had  never  seen  it — and  the  world's  outer  edge 
would  have  been  pushed  a  little  farther  westward, 
and  a  little  farther  northward. 

King  tossed  his  stone  aside  upon  the  coat  that 


318      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

lay  on  the  hay  near  him,  and  taking  his  scythe  in 
his  hands,  stepped  forward  and  swung  it  through 
the  grass. 

From  behind  him  came  a  clear  call,  and  paus- 
ing at  the  end  of  his  stroke  he  turned  with  a  smile 
and  waved  his  hand  to  Cherry,  who  was  tripping 
along  down  the  meadow  towards  him.  King 
dropped  his  scythe  and  went  to  meet  her.  When 
they  met  he  caught  her  by  the  arms,  and  lifting 
her  from  the  ground,  kissed  her  on  the  lips. 

"Leave  the  hay,  King,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  he 
had  set  her  upon  her  feet  again,  "and  let's  go  to 
the  camp  for  supper.  It's  not  four  o'clock  yet — 
we  have  more  than  two  hours." 

King  glanced  at  the  hay  waiting  to  be  put  into 
coils  and  then  at  Cherry,  whose  face  was  full  of 
fresh  girlish  expectancy.  Her  eyes  were  as 
roguish  as  they  had  been  in  those  first  days  of 
their  meeting,  nearly  a  year  ago. 

She  caught  his  sidelong  glance  and  read  its 
meaning  at  once. 

"Ah,  King,"  she  pleaded,  "it  won't  rain — see, 
there  isn't  a  cloud  in  the  sky !  Besides — if  it  does 
— let  it.  There's  lots  and  lots  of  hay — and  there's 
only  a  little — just  so  much  summer." 

She  pinched  the  end  of  a  slender  finger  to  give 
point  to  her  last  statement,  and  looked  at  King 
with  a  smile  brightening  in  her  eyes. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      319 

"You  little  scamp,"  he  said,  going  to  her  and 
taking  her  head  between  his  hands,  "what's  the 
use  of  a  man  making  up  his  mind  to  anything 
where  you  are?" 

He  kissed  her  again  and  started  towards  the 
little  cabin  on  the  ridge,  with  Cherry  dancing 
along  beside  him,  clinging  to  his  arm  and  chatter- 
ing as  she  went. 

When  they  came  to  the  cabin  they  went  in  for 
a  few  moments  to  prepare  for  their  trip.  The 
cabin  was  larger  and  more  comfortable  than  the 
shack  in  which  King  had  lived  during  the  pre- 
vious summer — and  infinitely  cleaner.  King  had 
brought  the  logs  from  the  hills  during  the  winter, 
and  had  built  the  cabin  with  the  assistance  of  a 
half  dozen  of  Keith  McBain's  men.  Cherry  did 
the  rest — and  the  place  was  as  neat  and  snug  as 
the  heart  could  wish. 

In  a  moment  King  was  out  again  and  was  gone 
to  the  corral  among  the  willows  below  the  ridge. 
When  he  returned  and  stood  before  the  door  of 
the  cabin  he  led  the  horses,  saddled  and  bridled 
and  champing  their  bits.  King  called  and  Cherry 
emerged  ready  for  the  road.  Sal  leaped  about 
them  until  they  had  got  into  the  saddles,  and  then 
all  went  off  together. 

Keith  McBain's  camp  lay  some  twelve  or  fif- 
teen miles  up  the  valley  to  the  north  and  west. 


320      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

With  two  Hours  to  make  the  trip  they  had  ample 
time,  without  much  loitering,  to  reach  camp  be- 
fore the  men  should  leave  the  grade  for  supper. 
They  followed  the  freighters'  trail  that  wound  in 
and  out,  now  skirting  the  edge  of  the  right-of- 
way,  now  heading  into  the  standing  poplars,  or 
running  out  across  open  reaches  of  green  plain. 
Before  the  summer's  end  the  steel  gang  would 
have  laid  the  rails  and  the  first  trains  would  have 
steamed  into  the  valley  from  beyond  the  hills. 
Even  now  the  gang  of  engineers  and  levellers 
were  close  upon  the  heels  of  the  graders,  giving 
the  road-bed  its  final  touches  before  the  steel  was 
laid. 

Cherry  and  King  rode  along  easily,  without 
hurrying  their  horses,  King  listening  while 
Cherry  did  most  of  the  talking.  Here  and  there 
new  beauties  came  to  meet  them  in  the  curving 
trail  and  waving  grass  and  tall  white  poplars 
with  glistening  leaves  and  white  powdered 
trunks.  They  crossed  a  half-dozen  little  streams 
of  clear  water  rippling  over  gravel  and  shale. 
Frequently  they  came  out  where  they  caught  a 
distant  view  of  the  hills  that  lay  to  the  north  of 
the  valley,  pale  blue  and  lying  low  upon  the 
horizon,  like  a  fringe  of  dark  cloud.  To-day  they 
were  a  very  pale  blue,  and  Cherry  smiled  as  she 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      321 

pointed  to  them  and  reminded  King  of  what  she 
had  told  him  in  the  meadow. 

"You  see — it  isn't  going  to  rain  for  days,"  she 
said.  "See  how  smoky  the  hills  are." 

King  extended  his  hand  and  leaned  towards 
her.  The  horses  moved  closer  together  in  in- 
stinct born  of  training  at  the  hands  of  practised 
riders,  and  King's  arm  went  about  Cherry  as  he 
drew  her  close  to  him. 

He  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  kissed  her  in- 
stead. 

The  next  moment  they  were  off  at  a  brisk  run 
along  a  stretch  of  open  trail. 

It  was  not  yet  six  o'clock  when  the  trail  took 
them  out  upon  the  right-of-way  a  scant  half  mile 
from  where  Keith  McBain's  men  were  still  at 
work  on  the  grade.  King  drew  his  horse  in  and 
stood  for  some  time  gazing  down  the  open  right- 
of-way  towards  the  workers,  and  then  turned  to 
look  behind  him,  where  the  grade  stretched  far 
into  the  distance  and  was  lost  in  the  closing 
perspective. 

"I  like  this,"  he  said  to  Cherry,  who  had  drawn 
rein  beside  him.  "There's  something  about  it  all 
that  makes  a  man  glad  he  has  lived  and  taken 
some  little  part  in  it.  If  we  could  see  the  world 
in  the  making — I  think  it  would  be  something 
like  this." 


322      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

r  He  stretched  out  his  arm  and  swept  it  about 
him  as  he  spoke. 

Cherry  looked  into  his  face,  in  contemplation, 
not  so  much  of  what  he  was  saying  but  rather  of 
what  she  saw  in  his  eyes.  All  that  made  him  a 
man — all  that  made  him  the  man  she  loved — all 
that  made  him  the  man  that  men  loved — was 
there  in  the  simple  gravity  and  the  deep  serious- 
ness of  his  face. 

A  few  moments  later  they  rode  down  among 
the  men  to  where  Keith  McBain  was  standing 
alone  smoking  his  pipe  and  watching  a  line  of 
teamsters  swinging  about,  an  endless  chain  of 
"slushers"  moving  the  earth  from  the  side  of  the 
right-of-way  to  the  grade  in  the  middle.  They 
were  met  on  all  sides  by  greetings  from  the  men, 
who  paused  in  their  work  to  give  them  a  welcome. 

When  they  came  to  Keith  McBain,  Cherry 
sprang  to  the  ground  and  kissed  her  father,  and 
King,  swinging  down  from  the  saddle,  came  for- 
ward and  shook  hands  with  the  old  contractor. 
In  Keith  McBain's  eyes  there  was  a  light  as  of 
returning  youth.  The  smile  on  his  face  was  the 
smile  of  a  man  who  had  found  the  world  a  good 
place  to  live  in,  after  all,  and  wants  nothing  more 
than  to  be  left  to  do  his  work  and  fill  his  remain- 
ing days  with  achievement. 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      323 

There  was  almost  a  half  hour  still  left  before 
six  o'clock,  but  Cherry  went  close  to  her  father 
and  patted  his  cheeks  with  her  two  hands. 

"Let's  all  quit  work  for  the  day,"  she  said.  "I 
don't  come  to  camp  often." 

Old  Silent  looked  at  her  with  all  the  pretense 
at  being  stern  that  he  could  command  in  the 
presence  of  his  daughter. 

"Who's  going  to  build  this  railroad?"  he  asked, 
a  smile  growing  upon  his  features. 

Cherry  kissed  her  father  and  patted  his  cheeks 
playfully  again.  "Old  Silent  is,"  she  said;  "but 
his  daughter,  Cherry  McBain,  is  going  to  make 
his  men  glad  she  came.  She's  going  to  make 
them  want  her  back  again." 

"You  buy  your  popularity  at  a  very  high 
price,"  he  replied. 

"Remember — I  have  a  husband  who  does  as  I 
tell  him,"  Cherry  returned.  "If  you  don't  call  the 
men  in — I'll  tell  him  to  do  it." 

Keith  McBain  looked  at  King  and  then  put  his 
arm  about  his  daughter.  The  look  carried  a 
meaning,  and  King  turned  towards  the  men  and 
gave  the  call. 

"All  in!" 

The  men  responded  as  if  they  had  been  expect- 
ing the  call,  and  almost  at  once  the  works  were 


334      THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN 

deserted  and  the  men  were  trooping  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  camp.  The  little  group  of  three 
were  the  last  to  leave  the  grade.  They  lingered 
a  long  time  talking  and  looking  over  the  work  the 
men  had  done  during  the  day.  Then  they  walked 
off  together,  King  and  Cherry  on  either  side  of  the 
old  man,  the  two  horses  following  behind  them 
with  the  bridle-reins  hanging  across  their  necks, 
Sal  leisurely  bringing  up  the  rear. 

"And  won't  you  be  leaving  this  work  soon  and 
coming  to  stay  with  us?"  King  asked  of  Keith 
McBain  when  they  had  come  almost  to  the  camp. 

"What — leave  this  and  go  puttering  round  on 
a  farm?"  he  replied.  "No,  boy,  no.  As  long  as  I 
can  give  the  call  to  'roll  out'  in  the  mornings  I'll 
stay  with  it.  When  I'm  through — I'll  quit  here 
— with  my  men !" 

The  remainder  of  the  walk  to  camp  was  made 
in  silence. 

There  was  a  big  dinner  that  evening  that  lasted 
long  after  the  usual  hour.  And  there  was  much 
talking  and  laughing  and  some  singing  of  songs 
at  the  table.  All  ate  together,  with  a  place  at  the 
centre  of  one  long  table  for  Cherry,  where  she 
could  see  all  the  men  from  where  she  sat.  On 
one  side  of  her  sat  her  father,  and  on  the  other 
side  her  husband.  And  when  it  was  all  over  the 


THE  HEART  OF  CHERRY  McBAIN      325 

men  gave  cheers,  first  for  Cherry  McBain,  and 
then  for  the  man  who  was  the  father  of  Cherry 
McBain,  and  last  of  all  for  the  man  who  had 
played  the  game  and  had  won  the  heart  of  Cherry 
McBain. 

And  late  that  evening  King  and  Cherry  took 
the  trail  again  to  return  home.  And  the  men 
gathered  to  cheer  once  more  until  they  were  gone 
from  sight. 

Then  came  upon  them  the  silence  of  the  even- 
ing and  the  magic  of  it.  In  the  west  was  the 
dying  flame  of  a  day  that  had  set.  About  them 
lay  the  woods  and  the  grassy  reaches  of  plain, 
with  a  deep  hush  upon  them  broken  only  by  the 
occasional  sleepy  twitter  of  birds,  or  the  lazy 
croaking  of  frogs  in  the  hollows,  or  the  sharp 
whistle  of  night-hawks  that  swept  down  above 
them  on  whirring  wings.  And  from  far  away 
there  came  the  sound  of  someone  singing  in  the 
night. 

THE   END. 


A     000052145     0 


